GAVIN KRAISS - POEMS

​Gavin is a freelance writer in South Florida. He is a pursuer of the arts and the kind of knowledge that turns a world upside down, then shakes it like an Etch-A-Sketch. He is 20 years old and has a passion for dogs, music, movies, and writing. ​

​Postcards to Los Angeles

My eyes
still hear your tongue.
sprawled out
on faded parchment.
Pinned
to a card stock--
butterfly under the microscope.
 
an inked out body
could caress my cheek
with the hand
that holds the pen.
 
they came with the rain at first,
that a loaded envelope
could wake me up in a morning--
a quill marked kiss each night.
 
now they Stop.
 
I run to a metal casket
Marked 252.
to pry it open; empty
and leave my confidence with you.
 
Now, with ribbon skewed door.
Heart; a puddle in my hands.
i hold each letter
returned
to mailbox 252.

​Stoney Ensemble

​Staring forward
through rearview mirrors.
Trapped, standing,
still in fresh bedded cement.
 
Veneer drops.
but unsurprised at rain
Falling skyward.
heaven yawning back.
 
Skyscraper sleep
Obscure in coal soul-black
bed sheets
fresh pressed by the illusive maid.
 
Green, Red, Green, Stop
Crowded loneliness
this very concrete.
Unreal City.

​Water Pressure

​Hold your breath--
 
After the water extinguishes your noise
and tears make tide rise higher
Pressure like a brain in a plunger
‘till every sound drowned out
and you still can’t hear the danger
 
Hold your breath--
 
When arms strike out and stop instead
and weightlessness weigh down your head
can’t think, but sink to crash slow motion
Marionette, your strings beyond extended reach
to open skyed ceiling and front row seating
this gaping Stage, your swallowed ocean
 
—Hold your breath
 
‘cause dolls
can’t
breathe.