I always came around to your aesthetic by David Calogero Centorbi

Poetry

Like the sunlight held
in the crystals you hung
from the low tree branches in the side yard.
As we sat there,
I swore I heard voices coming from them.
Maybe the tree conversating
with the hot bloodlight that kept it breathing?
When I told you,
you said,
“Sure, you probably did hear voices.
But we cannot understand the language.
Maybe, once upon that time when we felt
passion for the rocky, wet, green, and blue places
that bore us,
but we left that embrace
so many years ago.”

You went in as dusk came.
I closed my eyes and kept still,
and hoped,
that if I wanted to understand the voices,
that hope
would become a prayer
the soon to be held starlight would accept,
and be gracious enough to whisper
to me
everything the voices were saying.


David Calogero Centorbi is a writer that in the 90’s earned an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. Now, he is writing and working in Detroit, MI. He is the author of  Landscapes of You and Me, (AlienBuddha press) and AFTER FALLING INTO DISARRAY (Daily Drunk Press)