Robert Hastings
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Ocean Brisk
Let the sequoia leaves tremble.
Let honeysuckle reek this entire terrain,
it’s your body I choose to admire tonight.
Your shadow’s tongue, conjuring
the simplest words for the most complex pleasures.
Your hips bending in the wind
like swaying magnolia’s, baby,
let love disperse beneath bleeding chasms of sky-
against the weight of satellites, against this velvet night.
Let us inhale the moon’s piercing hue of violet,
though it refuses to tuck itself in.
And though we’re lost in Spring’s pollen
and calloused grip, we are ocean brisk-
which means
the calligraphy of our hands will always sketch us back home.
Where archives of silence open and wide-eyed papayas
wait for cool lips to suck them dry.
Let the sequoia leaves tremble.
Let honeysuckle reek this entire terrain,
it’s your body I choose to admire tonight.
Your shadow’s tongue, conjuring
the simplest words for the most complex pleasures.
Your hips bending in the wind
like swaying magnolia’s, baby,
let love disperse beneath bleeding chasms of sky-
against the weight of satellites, against this velvet night.
Let us inhale the moon’s piercing hue of violet,
though it refuses to tuck itself in.
And though we’re lost in Spring’s pollen
and calloused grip, we are ocean brisk-
which means
the calligraphy of our hands will always sketch us back home.
Where archives of silence open and wide-eyed papayas
wait for cool lips to suck them dry.
An Excerpt From The Journal of Mona Lisa
I have learned to accept your frequent departures,
better yet, I’ve come to expect them.
Just know I don’t expect you
to see me in the face of your clock,
or in your fields of endless lilac.
Don’t look for me on your double-deck bridge,
or on the knife you cut your meat with.
No matter your artistic finesse,
I cannot be shaped from dust on your piano.
The real me refuses to be sketched. Yet tomorrow,
I will perch as peaceful as a white-crowned sparrow
on an olive branch. I will gaze into you, half-smiling
as if saying- let’s just see where this takes us.
Let’s see how many times I can break you in a single
night.
I have learned to accept your frequent departures,
better yet, I’ve come to expect them.
Just know I don’t expect you
to see me in the face of your clock,
or in your fields of endless lilac.
Don’t look for me on your double-deck bridge,
or on the knife you cut your meat with.
No matter your artistic finesse,
I cannot be shaped from dust on your piano.
The real me refuses to be sketched. Yet tomorrow,
I will perch as peaceful as a white-crowned sparrow
on an olive branch. I will gaze into you, half-smiling
as if saying- let’s just see where this takes us.
Let’s see how many times I can break you in a single
night.
Advice For A Paralyzed Friend In The Form Of A Sonnet
Nevermind the vines and thorns
which threaten to prick- spit the rapture
into your hands and inhale. Get lost
in the aesthetics of beauty that surround you,
the hundreds of rings in the chopped redwood’s trunk.
Sing to each lovely one. Ignore posture. Write
the wrong. Pretend to feel
each one of my calloused knuckles as they run
along your spine’s tender marrow. Hold
within your palms an incandescent light,
reflect off stained-glass suncatchers and dance
every time a stranger asks you to. Sail headstrong
into the magmatic core of this Earth and never once,
ever, should you think to look back.
Nevermind the vines and thorns
which threaten to prick- spit the rapture
into your hands and inhale. Get lost
in the aesthetics of beauty that surround you,
the hundreds of rings in the chopped redwood’s trunk.
Sing to each lovely one. Ignore posture. Write
the wrong. Pretend to feel
each one of my calloused knuckles as they run
along your spine’s tender marrow. Hold
within your palms an incandescent light,
reflect off stained-glass suncatchers and dance
every time a stranger asks you to. Sail headstrong
into the magmatic core of this Earth and never once,
ever, should you think to look back.
Robert Hastings holds a BA in English from Montclair State University. His poetry can be found
in publications such as Adagio Verse Quarterly, Falling Star Magazine and The Normal Review
among others. He is currently working on his first collection of poems.
in publications such as Adagio Verse Quarterly, Falling Star Magazine and The Normal Review
among others. He is currently working on his first collection of poems.