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kevin calaguiro
kevin calaguiro, 19 years old, is from suburbia, just outside of toronto. a few of his poems have been published on verse libre quarterly, an online e-zine. he loves reading, music and travelling, and hates when people wear white socks with dress shoes. nascent_soul@hotmail.com

Works on this page:
the sunrise in the city
by way of the drug
glitter girls (part ii)
benched in grace
enough gloom
glitter girls and other stories
driving it to the taste
the concrete city


The Sunrise in the City

Mindless banter
Amidst city lights and candle light
Following the straight line
Straying too often

Keeping in tune
With the rhyme on TV
Watching the faces of pretty
Stretch them selves

Heeding the flocks
Like a big wide focus
Tasting the taste
With tongues of sex

Laughing and playing it
Moonlighting the Foxtrot
Speaking in currency
While the state claims my soul

Old geezers yelling
From driveway ends
In cardigans
With shit of their shoe

Crooning into a microphone
Waiting for the break
In the midnight and sleep tight
Relax and unload a thousand kisses

And bring it all together
Coffee and train rides
9A.M. mornings
The sunrise in the city

Try it on
For the time being
Test it to the soul
And tell Jesus all your thoughts


By Way of the Drug

Acoustic rock to my ear
Binding me to the moment
Feeding me

Magnificent lifeless roses
Looming over a makeshift vase
Honey dew and sickle cell
Watching the day haze away

Between cigarettes
And nights passing
Living life by way of the drug

Piloting this plane
Drawing death in
And waiting for the wake

In the mass of culture
Of struggle
Masked by lust
Holding it to me

Watching the ash of night
Mix with the breath
Rolling with life
Silently letting Go
Taking it in
While it slowly decides its end


Glitter Girls (part II)

Gliding underneath
The sheen
In tie-dye body wear
Smother over me
Not because you feel shame
But swallow
Swallow swallow

Everybody's body knows it can be
A cheap thrill
And if you keep it quiet
You will get your money

Into my secret
And hold it
To me
Tasting it

My absorption lies in the crest
My fear is great
Tipping mine over
Into the boiling pot
Standing next to the sinners
In the basement
Tied to the glitter girls

Falling into it
With a cigarette
And conjuring up my justification

So keep it close
And watch the sheen
Enter my backseat

All the little sisters
Are feeding
Anorexia is the choice
All the little sisters
Feeling the same way
Two steps from the glitter girls
And all their stories


Benched in Grace

He's got a little thing for white boys in white
Hanging onto the strings with petrified black finger nails
Holding it out to the goddess in the front seat
Wearing stealth and heat like a summer rain

If the moon wasn't so low tonight
I could see the circus that makes your show
You don't really not want to see me again

How many fakes turn around in the midnight time
Thinking what you will
Not realizing that we are the same
Thinking that you are the man,
Yeah well, so do I

If I don't get the respect I deserve
I'll take a piece of your precious little thing
Even the church bells are closer to me than you
Knees benched in grace across the street
Sorry they can't get it up tonight

I can be cruel to my body
And I do know why
Just one more night and I will make it fine
Then the wind blows boom
Twisting the axis of my centered life
And I find myself dressing in white once again


Enough Gloom

Under a blanket of shame
Holding life by thin strings

Being a recluse
Hindered by inhibition

Selling it to the taste
And allowing the old ones

To touch and take and seethe
Cornering it to Buicks

Following the lines
Spinning like shopping bags
Caught up in the wind today
Choosing nothing
Giving in to the softest breeze
Losing grip on life
Letting it roll
Silently hanging onto my stealth

Wicked wands thinning to
Post-sex strings

In headbands and tiger tans
I wore it well

Taking the strings and
Hanging the moon

Hazed by my blanket of shame
Enough gloom to do it again


Glitter Girls and other stories

She's a Miss America
Come and claim your crown
Take it down
To the laundry mat
And clean it real well

Maybe you'll find some coins
To save you
To love you
To father you in the basement
With your panty hose at your ankles

There is a sixty-watt in the corner
Hanging over the dryer
Where your straightjacket looms
Missing a button in the middle
Just enough room

Maybe you'll find a suitor
A cowboy to keep you still
Keep it clean at suppertime
The camera is shooting bullets

You walked it well
There you were
With your throat in his hands
At least you didn't wake the kids


Driving it to the Taste

Dropped off
Into a solemn state
Watching the flowers grow
In the sunless

Drowning away
From the cries of that distant tongue
Where is my engine starter?
Give it to the fire starter
And watch it drive
To the cemetery
With my pansy boyfriends
And the glitter girls
With their legs of shine and faces of angst
Throwing what they can to the men
Every time washes me clean
Time to keep it clean and watch the sheen

Sh sh sh
My engine killed

Father killed his milkmaid
Tasting it to the haze of spring
Wandering around
Wondering what
Perfecting the turnout
To make it to the stage

You'll find me daddy
In the corner of the wall
'Honey, what is that I see?'
'Daddy, daddy this is me'
Say what you will
She will never be the same
Given the circumstance
The man will not be
And you will see the death that lives up the street from our house


The Concrete City

Breakfast of champions

I wish the sun would warm
This desolate concrete city
Where trees are a luxury
And taxicabs flourish
With the wind on my neck

We play our roles in the city
The student
The doctor
The homeless man
The mother
The whore
No room

I am sitting in a pool of academics
Waiting to let it out
Holding it in
Like a child who has to pee

Foolish Quaalude
Swimming in this sea
The concrete city

Feel the fingertips that mollify
Adagio music over skin
Falling soft the to taste

Releasing the dead fish
And watching them flop on the streetscape
In the concrete city

Holding it out

I can hear the voices again
I can see the signs again
Please sir
Won't you see me
Play our song to the city
Two acoustic guitars
Like harmony to a voice

Play it out
In the concrete city
While taxicabs bring home
The doctors
The lawyers
The whores to hotels

And watch it turn my blue to black


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