Two Poems, by Jake Lintereur

Disinheritance

I remember how you threw a stapler at me from across the

room & when I think of it now the stapler hits a wall in my

mind slams metallically on the floor but I see you weren’t

mad at me you were mad at yourself the things you do to

your children are like etchings on metal plates they carry

these plates with them through their entire lives & when

new situations arise they pull out their etched metal to try

and make sense of what’s happening before them for

example my natural reaction to people is to wonder what I

have done to upset them & it’s because of this stapler

etching you gave to me when I was six because your life

was falling apart not mine so I am giving this thing back to

you it hasn’t helped me & it is heavy.

A Breath

Prana-Sanskrit for

breath—a vital life

sustaining force of

living beings flows onto

the page in symbols

of abstract black

ink which the mind has

bound up with meaning

& our mouths sculpt breath

putting sound to these

symbols that break the

plane of lips & enter

this new quantum

Universe where quarks

& strings pulsate to

every single sylla-

ble so before

you engage the muscles

in your cheeks &

even think of lowering

your jaw &

forming your tongue to

shape this force realize

the resulting rhythms

you skip across

the reflective

surface will ripple

& dance & tickle

& stab the beating

apparatus of

everything that has

ever existed.

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