Vol. 3, No. 1: Rainbow Curve photo

BuzzingEros Livieratos

I’ve been throwing

large men onto ocean


fist mats, surface of

sweat & bruise.


I have been thrown

every day this week


hoping to clear this

beehive brain. All buzzing


sounds a lot like ends.

In Judo, an ippon counts


as “perfect.” The body becomes

a circle and for a brief moment


legs are intertwined, arms—Durga

esque when we navigate Samsara.


In circumventing suicide, I found

best to keep the body from stillness


Let the limbs dangle only in mania

slumber. Climb new heights


in the daylight, pull-up

in the evening, callous


every softening. Become

unrecognizable. Try to beat


time like a violent wave.

I wrestle with my body


like combatting a forceful

entry. Eyes shut, I see a gun


peeking through the door

creaking open, my body


against it, pushing—always

pushing. Today, I will be


thrown by large men

onto blue mats of sweat


and bruise—circle & all.