Three prints by Kinoshita Tomio, currently housed by the Art Institute of Chicago.

Brutus Plays the Barber
By JO'VAN O'NEAL

This blessing started as a curse.
Found its way to the barbershop

and lined you up perfectly.
Before you even sat in the chair. I did

what that intimate touch between you
and a longtime friend couldn’t. Both men

gentle in this act only. With his fingers
off of your temple, there I was. And my sweet

razor a small kindness for our inherited face.
I, dancing around your jawline. Score our shared

mouth and liberate your nape. Most days I want blood,
and blood only to use my hands. I don’t get how

people can own blood and still want bone and flesh.
Today I practiced patience. Knew contentment.

Know the wrong breath and then a palm & jaw
could both become bathed. When Dad used to cut

our hair one after the other, parts of us would fall
and collect at his feet into a heap of familiarity.

Even then we wished to not be called each other’s.
Prettier men have paid for less.

This poem features in the most recent edition of Foundry Journal, a poetry magazine I'm very fond of. I would like to clarify that, despite the similarity in names, Found has no association with Foundry.

Artwork by Ed Binkley.

Submissions from Hendrik Morkel. Here's his instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hendrikmorkel

I had to write an obituary poem for a random word as an exercise. There were nickels lying on my desk.

Etchings by Francisco Goya.