Sunday 9 October 2022

Four Poems by Brian J. Alvarado


jot them down, ask them later


what if the tides learned their self worth,

and the moon gives up and gives in deeply-

would it land in the right spot, where it hurts,

and could the earth ever find the will to recover?

what if squalls would wait around

the corner of every moth flap-

would the world’s weight

hold us down all the same?

if north and south became archaic, could

we sustain the relief of a good flush, or would

we receive gratuitous solarstorm scrutiny?

how about when forests can no longer

bear to dig their martyr roots, and

the mercenary brushfire zeitgeist

collaborates in the coup de grâce-

will we savour every catch-breath

over cookouts and calisthenics any more?

and when the cold human condition floods

every surface level crag left vacant by

tired roots, insistent upon challenging

an uncontested primordial core-

do we embrace for mutual solace, or fear?



bring me to the sheer sublime

gradient of terra and marina,

only when a heavy moon melts

perpendicular along the surface,

and craters and ripples can elide


show me its embouchure,

where the sand is most

malleable and forgiving

on scorched soles, where

my mouth may form its

own warped mirror


unclasp a balm hand

while the other wades,

as the body pends to

keep afloat, and i tread

to commend the body 


so that i may reduce again

to a single droplet, a mere

facet on an ephemeral prism,

sanguine to return from cosmic

ink, evermore renewed to

blotch across unscripted earth





a tumbleweed county university

brought forth crude venn diagrams

of Sisyphean watering holes

and imperfect smoke circles,

an intersection of bacchanals

both desultory and evanescent-


what were the abstinent to do

but plan brunch trips to the strip

in easycore carpools on icarian

pursuit of the infinity on natural high,

flirting with the carefree purgatories

of taking risks on mall piercings

and splurging on Tripp pants,

limited GameStop releases, and

clearance entertainment at FYE

with honest work-study stipends?

were their pursuits not noble, and

were their virtues any less rewarded?


the excess would cease, or stay behind,

and left to unravel my 30th return amidst

a revival of post-hardcore and temperance,

i sometimes wonder had sweet Auntie Annie

called first before our crazy uncle Spencer did,

if i might have better stories to conflate with myths



ultimate sacrifice


had no one endeavoured

to chase the sun,


would we have not

crag, nor forest,


nor monument pillar,


our landmark constellations

of the human condition?

Brian J. AlvaradoBrian’s writing has been called “magical,” “gorgeously intricate and cerebral,” “intensely beautiful and rich with palpable imagery,” and “a slew of fun nonsense.” 

His work has been featured in printed publications of: RiverCraft, FERAL, SHIFTPeach Velvet Mag, Heart of Flesh Lit, and DenimSkin, and online in: Thimble Literary Magazine, Squawk Back, Trouvaille Review, Roi Fainéant Press, Bullshit Lit, and Cajun Mutt Press, among many others. 


He contributed poetry to William David Cooper’s St. Luke Passion, which has been performed twice since its premiere in 2021.  He holds a BA in Creative Writing from Susquehanna University. @wrdsrch




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