Friday, August 31, 2012

Three Poems by Thibault Raoult

Assume The Open-door Policy

Doesn't apply to moss, which, in the right
Hands, abstracts your everyday river.

I'm embarrassed, geographically,
To be the stuffed animal ritual. Shaking

Off panorama, intend to smell like fruit
You left way behind at your birth.

Disposable Epic

If they say there’s a mystery
Ingredient does that mean
There has to be one?
And if ghost latches on
To your residual leapfrog,
Where does that leave me Alan?
I understand my father
Ate mustard sandwiches.
Banks tune Wyoming.

The Only Ones Awake

There’s a mirror in gulf
And scraper for field.

Freeze: chimps
Aren’t toxic!

Way to gang up, Jazmín.
Funny how we repeat

An equation.

Thibault Raoult's writings are forthcoming in Boston Review, Denver Quarterly, and 6x6. Projective Industries will release his chapbook, Communist Couplets, after the New Year. Thi lives in Athens, Georgia, where he studies in the English and Creative Writing PhD Program at UGA.