Two Poems by Brian Le Lay

Eulogy for a Modernist

They say he hung it all out to dry,
The old forms, his women,
The publishers in New York
Even himself. He said:

"I am not the spokesperson
For a generation," like a father
In denial of his children.
When he died, his women said:

"That's all you ever do;
All you ever do is go."



Blanket Fort

Your heart floats in holy water
When you French kiss
The California Merlot,
But when you were seven
At a moment like this
You would build a blanket fort
In your grandmother's
Dining room, which, then,
Was all you needed
To insulate yourself

el sangrado de algo precioso (the bleeding of something precious) by Michael Ashley‏

[i]

Juan kept
  his eye on
the target
through dirt
& dust
dos Chilangos
taking a stroll
  down
San Pablo
  dressed
in black
two shadows
  dance
in plinths
of sunlight
their pace
  increasing
almost as if
they sense
danger
& then
the gunshot
sings--
her hollow
end-note


[ii]

Miguel mi
hermano
his face
blown wide
like the head
of a dark
-red Dahlia
& just before
the shot
sunlight
fell between
balustrades
catching
his eyes
I smile
holding
the moment
a tiny nugget
  of gold
in the filth
of Mexico