The More I Feel Lost, The More I Believe I Can Be Helped By This Unknown Source of Knowledge or Understanding
dawn knuckle petal spit ghost
clutching her damp airplane pillow
your mom begins conducting the waves
as if it was her duty, next to her is some lady
your mother’s hair so short cause she cuts it every day
peeing in the water she loves her birth control
they are listening to eminem your mother is loving it
finally hearing the ocean in her headphones
across the hall walls sync together like a cootie catcher
lovers pulling away their hands
“in shrink wrap breath and ghost-shaped arrows”
you stick your hand inside your sandwich
something was left out the corner of the eye
and not a smile’s wrinkle
the more it feels lost
manuel arturo abreu (b. 1991, Santo Domingo) is a poet and artist from the Bronx. Currently living and working in a garage in southeast Portland, they received their BA in Linguistics from Reed College in 2014. They have shown with PNCA (Portland), Institute of New Connotative Action (Seattle), AA|LA Gallery (LA), As It Stands (LA), Compliance Division (Portland), et al. They have published with Rhizome, the New Inquiry, Open Space, AQNB, Berfrois, Poor Claudia, et al. They are the author of List of Consonants (Bottlecap Press, 2015) and transtrender (Quimérica Books, 2016). They co-run home school, a free pop-up art school in Portland. [www.manuelarturoabr.eu]
1001 