2 poems

by Bryan Vale

oakland arena  

the canal floats

oil paints and

oxidized screws away

from their origins

in industrial backlots.

true story: i once dumped,

at my boss's direction,

ten gallons of acrylic 

down the drain.

so it's my canal

too, and i float

up to the

urban-scarred 

horizon. 

to the girls who enjoyed the hand motions

who brought waves of mercy and grace to life,

who improvised choreography to those songs that lacked it,

who closed eyes and tilted heads

as choruses hit the high note,

to the girls who enjoyed the hand motions:

i wish i knew who dispensed your wisdom,

who gave out your generosity.

i was a fly on the wall of your winter camp,

a seeker in the doorway of your youth group,

a humble pursuer of knowledge and joy

lost on unmarked dirt roads far from my destination.

Bryan Vale is a writer based in the San Francisco Bay Area. His fiction and poetry have appeared in several journals, including Scribes*MICRO*Fiction, Paddler Press, Friday Flash Fiction, Bright Flash Literary Review, and Quibble. Learn more at bryanvalewriter.com, or follow Bryan on Twitter and Instagram: @bryanvalewriter.