An old woman beckons
by Giovanni Ortega

About the author

Born in New Jersey on May 21 of the year 1985, I have lived in Puerto Rico since the age of thirteen. Influenced by punk rock and surrealist poets, I have been writing substance induced melancholy since the day I awoke from my first death.

this second decade past emotion

I still look for Boogeymen and

monsters under my bed

Last night I flew down a building,

holding onto rails and cowboy steps

carrying a faceless infant on my saddleback

three corpses drowned above the ceiling

they won’t take away my son like a glorified snake…

II

I pass the hour looking at Silver lake

Machine rattling away like time

answering Hollywoodland cement

I pause gasping sweat

running through the millennia

and crossing resumes backwards we grow

puberty will hit like a handmade grenade

online

it pleases the dinner of my fingers

keys into laps of broken doorknobs and cow whistles

duskattle mooo

thru phalluses and nipple tweezers

behemouth is not spirits

III