Armando Jaramillo Garcia

Some Unfeeling Waves



As they used to write


A child would die typically on a holiday to the seaside


Some unruly waves brought in to set the mood


A bad marriage would become worse


A suicide launching those still alive into the life


They were meant to lead


And things would end there leaving us to think


Of unrealistic plans we had abandoned


Spending the night revising and drinking


Over what had long ago stopped worrying our sleep


There are friends we can talk to about these things


Who don’t care how the past holds us back


We lend each other books and cassettes


Filled with scratchy and wobbly emissions


Which we nervously break into bits

Grand Tour



Take from these


A stained announcement


In a bucket of corks


Stamped with vintages


In private moments they burned


Witches in soap bubbles


Destroyed their instruments


Before adoring Japanese girls


Stethoscope landings for hijacked


Airplanes on a runway of thorns


Like cracking a safe


Breathe deeply it said


As you hit the slides alarmed to bounce


On a concrete bottom


Say the words without a stutter


That’ll bring you the fierceness


Of cuttlefish changing colors


On the way back from some European jaunt


Where disappointment


Like Oklahoma


Followed you around


Your local congressman


Tired of waiting for your endorsement


Sublet your emotions


To a future without a past


Worth its salt or anything


But a lot of sitting at bars


Exposed to the elements


In your space blanket of desires


You survived


ARMANDO JARAMILLO GARCIA was born in Colombia, South America and raised in New York City. He graduated from Aviation High School and attended Hunter College. Prelude Books will publish his debut collection of poetry, The Portable Man, in 2017. His work has also appeared recently in Boston Review, Public Pool, Prelude, Horse Less Review, TYPO, inter|rupture and others.