Colorado
I am a toddler in the pharmacy aisle
looking for my mother on the edge of composure
I'm catching bees with my father
and baby brother near City Park,
I think
could that have really happened?
I know I'm searching
for some
matter of fact
big enough
to hold on to
Upon My Earth
your affection, full, fleet gaited
your eels and brackish water
squeeze like
humming Xeroxes
cloning within difference
like a mistake
happily
unable to correct itself
forcing thruways into faults
abetting pools of phlegm and
caution
with longing like
a boutonniere
upon my humid patina
your bridges, pink and blue
blue, broken gazes
hatred objects and pink
sun’s flesh abyssal!
love me
like a garden gnome
torpedoing the Met
like a child insisting
like an unskilled hypnotist
your absinthine half-light
your fondling clouds of yellow jelly
your rapid streams of oxygen
sailing,
sailing
Elliott Schwebach is stuck between a PhD and he doesn't know what, with intermediate roles in this and that. He has published on psychotherapy and written on property (though probably not yours) and has four tattoos as of 5/20/2025. Holy shit that's a palindrome.
January House Literary Journal 
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