Albuquerque writer and artist Rudolfo Carrillo adheres to the precepts of modernism and so has been influenced and informed by the work of mentors such as the composer Christopher Shultis, painter Martin Facey, and man of letters Halvard Johnson. His work recent literary endeavors have appeared in On Barcelona, Unlikely Stories: Episode IV, and Maverick Magazine, Volume 18.
He also publishes Infinity Report and is the managing editor at Things in Light, a website focused on New Mexico art, literature, music, and events.
The death of Summer and Other Unfinished Poetic Devices
Come and sit by me, near this electric fire just so
I can feed you scraps of meat and tell how the
sparkly atmosphere made a prison of your legs.
You will not take water, the sky will not respond
To medical science or customized sonic equalizers.
On the first day you made a bloody hole of my right hand.
Fear and teeth, the inevitable triumph of plastic boxes
Deferred for the sake of personal redemption or otherwise
Built from the secret paths we carved out of concrete sidewalks
Because heroism has mournful consequences, even in suburbia.
They made a whistle from your hip bone. It sounds
Like the telephone. I won’t sweep your hair up from
The parquet floor as those strands are holy remnants.
You did not possess much else beyond quick brown eyes,
And clever tricks; a red blanket pulled after you forever.
In the morning a woman representing foreign geographies
Pulled back the door to heaven or nothingness. She asked
To pick flowers from my garden. She liked like the way
Veins and vascular systems shone through the petals.
Somehow she knew your name. I never saw her around here again.
Poetry submissions are welcome. Email email@example.com.