Vincent A. Cellucci


Self Portrait

   a requiem on repeat:
   her exceptional river puddle

no clear career
                                 but the word wand
                                                          I bet we lose
      lay concrete inside me
                               let me be the next Decatur street
an office of orifices         the so-bots gleam glorious
                 roasted all the porpoises
                            punished the pages   contagious
                                      my body ages   nobody    my editor    
         I speak spokes        they axle the exceptional wheel
                                                             boethius eat your farts out
                              sterling shivers like dishes dirty yet rinsed
                                                                             to chill in the sink
                      and I baby    left in bath
             momma’s never coming back
              the guillotine to the giraffe
                 expanded my mind
            and retract                innovated last
            persistently reticent vincent
                                    administers cinnamon ton tongues
                        (learned in nola)
                        gotta spice the devil out       the nostrils
                                                                                     memory’s nest
                                        when I collapse
                                                 I’ll be best     crash courage
                                                       landed in the hudson
                                                        climb down the missippi
                   classic don’t give a fuck
                   trills funeral home time
                                              I’ll type to the death
                                              reckless hearse swerves
                                                          Blessed be the first absence: sun
                                                      happy are those neglected from
                                                      her   mother    for theirs is the absence of sun

      I do not ask the wounded person how he feels… I myself
                                    become the wounded person
                                                                                         consider the stars gathering loss
                                                                                your crisis
                                                                                         absence arises


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