The February Selected Poet is

Paul Uriaz

Please feel free to email Paul at: pauluriaz@clear.net

DEAD DOLLAR BILL

In your hands, the sweat of the inky
Green monster, leaking the blood
Of tireless effort

A tithe of a pound of flesh stacked
Against you

Coins placed over your eyes in
Your death posture

So you can be a wealthy person
In the after world

Dead dollar bill, as it kills, all
Those whom it captures

The ink is still dry, as you lick it
Clean from the fingerprints and tears
Besmirching its legal tender

In your hands, out your hands, a constant
Chaos in the making

The ink is still dry

MIGRAINE

The heavy meat sounds churning
In my head

My collective unconscious rattling the
I-ching bones in my cranial worlds

The butchering knives of a supreme
Migraine

A dark rush of blood to my temples
Bending the iron in my skull

Stone hammers, incising rhomboid dents
Pounding and shattering in dull assaults

Making the pitch in my voice, 1000 levels
Above, pissed off

The soaring blood red as rubies, the red
In my retinas,

Can burn trees and human flesh, as I
Swallow Icarus and wallow in my
Own flames

SLEEP AND DEATH

As I moan in your arms, that
Have fallen by your sides,
A surrender that I suddenly fear

I cannot sleep and even when I do
It’s never restful, it leads to struggle
In unquiet resplendent fires that

Rage in the fevers that chasten
My restlessness

Paul Uriaz is a writer, musician, video artist, and occultist who lives in Los Angeles, California.