tonight feels like
one of those nights
where it feels like
the whole world
was invited to a party
some grandiloquent party
with a giant chandelier
and blurry visions
skirts lifted up
high into the sky
beneath the golden sun
of nighttime
a black and white affair
black tie, red dress
toss your woman up into the air
as the band plays on
their notes drifting
through cigar smoke
over the alcoholic ground
and the universe collectively cheers
to itself
but i
am sitting here
severely alone
in a room with no windows
banging at the stupid, stupid

i am doctor manhattan on mars
i am thirty-seven days of peril
lost among the thick, thick smoke
of the american earth
i am the man
who drowned
in a sinkhole
that came before the anticlimax
of the writhing desperate night
and swallowed him into the ground
i am without reason
i am outside of myself

i am the sound
when you scream
on top of a mountain
and there is no echo

breathless air
flowers for the dead

has the world lost me?
have i lost the world?
did we ever have each other
or were we just fuck buddies?

the phone don’t ring
and i am left to be
a brain
in a jar
in the middle
of nowhere



Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

7 thoughts on “BRAIN IN A JAR”

    1. Thanks, CS. This site hasn’t been super active lately, I’m sorry to say, but I hope you get the chance to delve back and read some of the poems I have posted. Anyone of the ones on the best of list on the right side are ones I’m pretty proud of. 🙂

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