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Poetry Breakfast

Serving a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry book reviews to feed poets' and poetry lovers' souls.

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Sergio A. Ortiz

The Hinge – A Poem by Sergio A. Ortiz

The Hinge

Forgive
the craft
of pouring myself
into pitchers.

Water
cannot tolerate thirst
for long periods
of time, the thirst

that invaded my home
during the years
of submarginal
words.

Burglars
burned down
the charity bazaars
and school libraries.

Now my son
will inherit
a handful of ashes.

 

 

About the Poet:
Sergio A. Ortiz is a gay Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a four-time Best of the Web nominee, and 2016 Best of the Net nominee. 2nd place in the 2016 Ramón Ataz annual poetry competition, sponsored by Alaire Publishing House. He is currently working on his first full-length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

Rain and Toothless Angels – A Poem by Sergio A. Ortiz

Rain and Toothless Angels

In my city, it always rains. Water
falls with an intensity that only belongs
to fables or dreams. Serious, insistent, almost
solid, a cloth made by hands without eyes.

It rains on currency circulating in shopping malls,
on every ticket drenched in sweat and bile.
It rains in courts, archives, between sentences, minutes,
articles, amendments. It rains as if someone were trying
to apologize, their voice crumbles into drops.

In the street, toothless angels slip while begging
door to door. In cemeteries, the dead spend
the eternity we gave them fixing drainpipes.

Clouds do not pray for the salvation: they’ve been baptized
by places of happiness. It rains: a clumsy gesture
covers buildings, moistens their foreheads, windows are silent.

The memory of my city is a puddle that wets legs,
softening my paper bones. Memories, like dull-skinned fish,
swim around, infect bystanders with insomnia.
Beetles roll awkwardly on sidewalks, buzzards watch
traffic in their free hours. Spiders weave the scaffolds
on which I walk. Gray scales grow on my front walls.

It rains on the history of the city, smudged and dispersed,
impossible to gather. Rains on the heads of the saints
that spit upward, armed with miracles of lead and beer.
It rains under the roof of the presidential palace: moss,
green as a caress, grows on the busts of heroes, on their eyelids
tired of so much corruption.

 

 

 

About the Poet:
Sergio A. Ortiz is a gay Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.

 

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

Amazing Microcosm – Poem by Sergio A. Ortiz

Amazing Microcosm

Eloy put a few seeds in my hand.
Thirty trees tomorrow, a forest fifty years later,
birds find the South in those trees,
wolves discover shelter. And ants grow
like a body between blind, sleepy roots.

At some point a house and another house
built by those woods and winter
lowered inside sediments.
Autumn with its total boredom
will put its heavy feet on the thick trunks
and will not conquer them. Nothing makes them break.

And in a hundred years a hundred men
will be happy men loving their husbands
under those broad roofs, a perfume of forest
will float in the children who arrive in their lives.

The world will be world and night will be night.
Owls will have bigger eyes and they will eat sparrows
as well as scorpions. And the mouse will be as minimal
as a strange insect, his pale hair will make him invisible
from November to February, and he will have no enemy.
Neither will the eagle nor man, if any, the serpent.

Thirty trees tomorrow,
lavender and red flowers grow in that forest … .
Yesterday, some seeds that Eloy put in my hand
that I threw to the sky.

 

 

 

About the Poet:
Sergio A. Ortiz is a gay Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.

 

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

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