A piano’s flat liquid
spills all over the green as dark
drizzle turns to radio static.

Listless cuerpo, worn out
corazón, my dried-up garbanzo bean
or deepest self–no one home?

Safe in middle-age.
Afternoons to myself, I might kill
for the old intimate

obliterating fusion of the real
and ideal, some throbbing
Platonic erection, or two

or three icy green
concussing waves, thunderous
finality, brutal absolute.

To grab the crackling
power line
instead of all this

nervous pitter-patter
jazz, this cloying
be-bop distractedness.

 

 



Peter Ramos’s poems have appeared in Colorado Review, Puerto del Sol, Painted Bride Quarterly, Verse, Fugue, Indiana Review, Mississippi Review (online), and other journals. He is the author of one book of poetry, Please Do Not Feed the Ghost (BlazeVox Books, 2008) and three shorter collections of verse: Television Snow (Back Pages Books, 2014), Watching Late-Night Hitchcock & Other Poems (handwritten press 2004), and Short Waves (White Eagle Coffee Store Press 2003). His criticism has appeared in MELUS, College Literature, The Faulkner Journal, The CEA Critic, Mandorla, Verse, Pleiades, and Poetry Daily. An associate professor of English at Buffalo State, Peter teaches courses in nineteenth- and twentieth-century American literature.