Monday, May 12, 2014

NEW! Two poems by Ryan Collins

Ryan Collins

Two poems

You’re too much on the fly, not enough 
Feet on the ground, too much a burning 
Candle at both ends, too hot to handle 
& too cold to hold. If you move too fast 
Into the heat you will shatter like a light-

Bulb. Your murals colored w/ shades not 
Legal in the country where you were born, 
But your tags all painted over. So you stew 
In your own juices, hope the bromide & 
Mercury have made a way into the branches 
Of your rivals, your enemies, your erasers. 
You are desperate not to be erased, New 
American—who could blame you besides 
The voice-over narration from the movie 
Being filmed inside of your unreliable head? 


You are the danger & I am the weapon. 
You are the science & I am the sweet 
Chile, the hydraulic, the knowhow.
You are the master & I am supposed to 

Bow at your feet, but I can’t go for that.

What I can do for you instead is deep 
Background, reconnaissance, the enemy 
Killed in action. We make our decisions 
For whatever lord we answer to alone, 
New American. You are the righteous 
Man & I am the tyranny of evil men, of 
Arsonists, of monsters suicide bombing 
In broad daylight—the battlefield makes 
Its own decisions. You are blue sheets
Of glass. I am leaves of grass for the rake.