Andrew Brenza
Five Poems
The Desert of Want
is tautology hugging itself, itself;
not the mammal shadow-plasma
nor the machines of insect song
ringing in the thermal pools
of dawn beneath it.The Surfaces of Want
Mobius ribbon indulgent
beyond a snake eating itself.The regularity of its meaning
in each dawn chorus entering you,a depthless discomfort of indifference
glittering in the trees.Thus, the way you trace the under-
cells of your skin looking for an in.The Ongs of Want
blossom-gong of hellstrip
sunflowering the gold that gold
finches’ blossom-song
flutter-feasts into plentyThe Evolution of Want
is gill-twist turned in liquid dark
of time’s hunger to jawbone’sbreath-hinged lifting
of chunk-flesh into the light.The Cicada-Song of Want
Or how dog days ground to dust
The stillness of the treesAs it happens from a porch (perch);
Eyelevel with the eye of dustBeyond the glass of tea, the flatness
Of thought, the endless mold of sky.