a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Poems By Evan Granito
Anatomy

I am full of many things.
Mostly meat,
and bones,
and water.
But other times, florescent bricks
binding dancers and statues while
royal blue noise
echoes around white thoughts
filling senses like scenery swirling
iridescent eyes.
Wooden mannequins
forming frames of
mushrooms and
grasshoppers and
sparks flashing deep within
shallow light bulbs.
Lead from the drawer-
Cuts from the paper-
Buttons and glasses and milk and eyelids
bubbling over wandering cheeks like blood.
The teeth and tears of
guitar stings on text messages,
overflowing ephemeral ears and
dripping into puddles of people
In the light.
 

Evan Paul Granito writes a lot, but he has never submitted anything anywhere. He is 17 and has lived in Ann Arbor, Michigan his entire life. He is currently a senior at Community High School, but he is going to WMU next year. He decided to start submitting poetry because it has gotten extremely difficult keeping track of all his old work, and one of his teachers demanded it.

Copyright 2008  Chantarelle's Notebook