Monday, January 4, 2016

Felino Soriano, a Selection from Fragmented Olio

        The Frag of Olio, image by Daniel Y. Harris 

a selection from Fragmented Olio

from Bas-relief

Here I begin toward

Within memory
I am never hemmed--

accumulates in
 the bedside of this room’s

elastic observation and

boredom observes me
in the constant unfastening of

   this moment’s look toward tomorrow’s
penetrating alphabet

Self, or the portrait of my youth hanging within the blank wall decorated by light

Each corner: body brok
avalanche of music with

tone as rhythm as
totality of reason
speech of my hearing
becomes speckled belonging and

I’ve a hanker to adhere
to what my father wrote into my early
aesthetics and altruistic harmony of hands:

-ing is fenceless music unless the ear focuses
later, plagiarizing through its memory of intrinsic
sustained ignition of probable articulation

and to my west a
dragonfly applauds
          the vanish of its
                                   consecutive ascents

Three versions of disposition


I was told to organize all the truths.
My hands, empty shelves.


My eyes, a needed closure
contained achromatic shapes,
reservoirs of decapitated miracles.


Music wore day
as does the body holed equivalents.  I cannot hear
among noon’s loudest warmth.

—Felino Soriano