photo by Cory Polacek
Ghost Station
I’m a ghost standing at your station, mama wondering if this train’s ever gonna show sometimes I think you tickle my brain and the whole scene is just for show It’s pathological, mama the way you wrap around my head I find myself about to boil over maybe I should just walk home instead I should sit down and write you a letter I’ve got your address memorized by heart the only thing I’ve written is “THE END” and I think it’s a pretty good start It’s Reaganomic, mama the way you trickle down my spine the space between us is quite maddening but I can’t unspend my time One of these days, I’m gonna down take your picture but your eyes are tattooed across my heart you always take me to the end of the line and I think that’s a pretty good place to start Hiroshima Skyline Rag Hot river of ashes lava making its way down your throat when your eyes start to cross you know you’ve no thoughts to float So look at what we have done to them we will do it to ourselves by accident or fate But it’s not for me to mention if we’re on time or if we are late The Mountain has been decimated the shrine has been desecrated They lean into me telling me- this is victory Their words are mausoleums empty without sacrament They only hear echoes of their own vehement Hot river of ash lava coating your throat you’ve got eyes to get across you know your soul will float But it’s not for me to mention if we’re on time or if we are too late The Oracle The Oracle of Delphi has spoken with her drunken voice unbroken She muttered now’s the time to rip the wine from the vine She couldn’t have known it was me who was picking up scraps from her feet She was tossing down diamond fillings as I went sweeping up her street Apollo was spaced out, he never heard a word some say behind his back He’s gonna burn up upon re-entry well, I had to laugh at that The Oracle of Delphi layed me down though I realized it was only in jest when I said I had no answer She told me that I passed the test Apollo, he was stargazing wondering if it was odd that the fellow in the mirror was a sad young God Bio: Christian Garduno’s work can be read in over 100 literary magazines. He’s the recipient of the 2019 national Willie Morris Award for Southern Poetry, a Finalist in the 2020-2021 Tennessee Williams & New Orleans Writing Contest, and a Finalist in the 2021 Julia Darling Memorial Poetry Prize. He lives and writes along the South Texas coast with his wonderful wife Nahemie and young son Dylan. Poetry: That’s How You Put Faith in Me by Christian Garduno A Poetry Showcase by Christian Garduno A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Christian Garduno
Fevers of the Mind 
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