Vasant 2024 Poems - Harry Palacio


Amherst, again
By Harry Palacio


I stay up late until I hear the birds churn their lonesome song. By now it has begun; the coupling epoch. When I think to myself about the lost emphatic loves, the rains are insurmountable. It’s such an era of isolation that I’ve forgotten how to leave the house. I know my way around this house the home of shadows. I pick up my backpack and leave to find love but I have not flown much. Many girls have known me it seems too exhausting to write the allegory of lists. I thought I loved a town where people look to die. And yet I know no one but a memory of stoners.

I pass by a hallway that seems like a street and I greet a past not unlike my schoolboy days where I was shorn and brutalized for my wayward locks. I sat in a classroom and drank my teacher dry as I was asked. I sat under a pear tree and repented my beauty. The sea nymphs would glare until a rotund pitch sounded almost like a hello. I was surprised at how I was mocked knowing I had qualities or gifts many could not understand.

I wrote a collection of my schizophrenia but had received poor reception. Each of my new loves would forget me and I could not. I had remembered you beautiful straddled on my bed drawing my self-portrait and in my ignorance I would not question you over it. But now you have probably settled down with men among a grove and I less fortunate am alone. Teeth are gone I am a mirror as I have always been. You would primp your hair before me and I had downcast eyes. Thinking you saw yourself and not me there I sat betook and saddened. Now am I wise and alone with no one to grow older with or marry?
I see Emily Dickinson being visited by a man from Amherst in obsession. The longing not foreign to the young author who was still father’s vestal her chastity maybe is not my concern. As she passes a poem to the man inquiring many thoughtful things Emily also remembers her schoolgirl days and shows her neck.


When she reads a poem the man has rains of grief and he blames her for much his distress.



Dominican Upheaval


It has been a rare night in ominous grief but I had not been really truthful with myself much. I’d see life being some strange opaque chord threading the semblance of habits into a pattern of work, when I would finally set to sleep my name was there in a solar flare and I incredulous. It seems my own thoughts would cloud a story about being alive yet alone; not unlike a sea of us without understanding. The way death made poignant the very little we had accumulated, chase the dog town into a mountainous steppe where we filled and empty. I heard my memory reverberate like a distant howl from a brook. We would summer and wade the waters so illustrious and hungering.

The girl’s stomachs had a firth of hair forming; I always remember wondering where it led. This was the La Vega, el campo, where I became scrupulous of the india, a mestiza girl, that wandered the country. I would see the same girl sometimes with mad green eyes like a haunting. At night instead of sneaking out I tried to read the dark omen that were my books under candlelight; I was afraid. The grove shook and there was no city.

We remembered ourselves in naked girls hanging around necks but not mine; I was a brute. And when I got back home I became a mestizo and the young white women saw my pear-shaped eyes gold from the sun and I was offered marriage. Now, after years of strife, circumnavigating the room I contemplate death, a memory of myself reading the omen of my story that comes flushing back.


Harry Edgar Palacio is an American celebrity: singer-songwriter, writer and artist. He performed with Grammy winners and Grammy nominated artists He is an award winning author: anthology featured in Remezcla, finalist for Fjords Review Book Competition, semi-finalist for Quartz Literary competition, grand prix at Hudson Valley MOCA Writing Off the Walls, Finishing Line Press chapbook competition, Finishing Line Press book competition & grand prix St. George School literary contest. He has two books published by Finishing Line press & one forthcoming by Atmosphere press. He was a music journalist & contributor at Tom Tom Magazine, More Sugar, & Popfadblog.


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