Sunshine Kid

a collection by Earnest Fitzgerald Salina.

On suffering

We expect | people to suffer
because our suffering
made us people
But to suffer
	is not a mark of good will
and to have scars
	is not the reason you have a body
	(on which you can carve them)
Perhaps when we ask for justice
what we are really asking for
is more comfortable bandages
And perhaps progress
is the ability to perform surgery
without leaving scar tissue


THE BLUE ALIEN

I was supposed to
be the sunshine
kid, how did I end
up such a sad
human

-.

Today was a New Yorker Morning,
and it passed
on public transportation,
thinking of how to scrub my house 
clean of my mother

Sage

When I was doing your
portrait, I spent hours staring at your
profile and noticed the thick,
perfect symmetry of your eyebrows, the
picture of beauty in your
5 o’clock shadow, the rhythm of
the muscles moving beneath your brow.
And maybe I’m a  bit 
biased by how I shine through you
(I love like a narcissist)
But to me every part of
you is beauty
permanent through tides and changes, a
painting of your profile, like ink on 
paper too thin my love shines through my 
skin too thin you cannot stop it 
from pouring out of you
When I watch you listen to your ugly music
on tired early evening 
all my pretentious heart can say 
is just beauty.

Tinnitus

Would you please
stop 
screaming.

Il

Is this the face that launch’d a thousand ships
and burnt the topless towers of Illium?
Sweet mirror I pray to die in gore
for the pain 
the Immortals
made me inflict 
with a kiss

Translation:

The job of swiping clear 
of someone’s life, throw away
the clothes and the books and
pick clean the empty skeleton 
of an apartment and own life
that was of someone else.

A poem about Sufjan Steven

I starve my heart like I starve my liver
Ever since the days it growled with greed
I starve like prisoners starve
themselves 
(my famine is political)
I learned to eat cotton
to cushion the pricks
of love misgiven.
I starve my heart
to save it from getting fat, and sweet and
mellow:
so it doesn’t melt on your tongue 
when you eat it
I starve my heart and
like starved flesh
every wound slashes deep into the muscle
and bleeds.

tutte le foto di Max Miechowski.

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