past hills beyond signs
Misael Osorio-Conde
though i understand the yellowing
in the sound of their laughter
i don’t know where my ancestors lie

they talk directly with the greenhouse light
with the wrinkles as if they knew talking matters
or what wrinkles give to empty hands
singing erasure to the green wasted time

or otherwise nothing could have prepared us
for the logic blowing the candles
the way candles blew dead limbs to sawdust
the reeds broken if you knew a trail goes
i am you your fear construction erased

i have ears you fear me climbing
red crackle on the road read rust groaning
hinges masticating floral center i cannot forget
only one leg’s secure grandpa the other
has lost so much blood grandpa Carlos

tied this rabbit to my foot prepared
said it will show you how
to die in the streets that is if you could walk
free allowed to want a fiction
say i don’t know where my ancestors come from

i don’t know where my ancestors are
walking to they haven’t sent me anything
they haven’t sent me light greenhouses wrinkles
anything so i cannot forget my troubles with the leaving
so i cannot forget the obsession

what it does to spores what it does to green
Misael Osorio-Conde is a Mexican poet from California. Life for this poet started at seventeen. He is a crosser of deserts, free citizen of shadowland and dreamer of a world without labels and numbers to put in them. He has no awards and one upcoming publication from deLuge Magazine.