Ben Nardolilli

Ben Nardolilli makes his debut this week at cavalcadeofstars.

Midnight Dexterity

Hateful, scornful,

Rebuked and scolding,

He writhes to contort

To an evening in literature

So he might take generously

To his medicine bed,

And clamber to dreams in peace.

Already Awake

I left Saturday early,

And came to Sunday

Before the churches opened,

Here at the desk,

Holding back blood

And recycling tears

I heard the moaning

From the hallways

Followed by laughter

One human sound,

One pair of lungs

Tripping over the other,

I wondered if this

Is what they have heard

From me nights before?

But they have a duet,

Much more admired

Than my oeuvre.

Though I’m not sure why,

It takes work to be

An accomplished soloist.

Clues of Mount Zion

Once in a while

It is a good thing

My luck comes

In moments


An Average Indictment

A free event, so we went out

To listen to the authors

And all their mushy gravy

Flavor combinations,

One extended family

Of hopefully starving artists,

We were poets, no plot,

A problem for the analysis,

We pitched sonnets instead,

But wore them out,

We said the work was long

Enough for a novellete.

What was our book about?

We looked about and tried

To distribute small kicks

To the eyes and ears

Of this suddenly captive,

Suddenly bemused audience

We gave a rendition despite

An inability for reduction,

Doctors and judges

Looked and listened, worse

They nodded and we knew

Our proposal was dead.

Not about to be silenced

By a going mere minute over,

We held our papers tight

As knives and threatened

Violence and book burnings

Demanding another sestina.

The Partial

All body, all function, I become

Bundle of will and thought,

The song of Nature continues,

Soundtrack for searching for myself.

The realm is half gloom, initially,

Before the unknown and me,

A minuscule labor I detest,

I turn away from the myriad.

I have not yet crossed the known

Ways of dying, to reach the goal,

Falsehoods are perennially in bloom,

This is a way, but out of what?

My body is ignorant of the depths

I continue to speak under the moon,

Each hour I try to seize with deeds,

Not wanting the play to be done.

Remedy, Quackery, and Thrill

Overqualified and unbelievable

Life heroes keep showing up

And offering me their best septum,

I decline because no glasses

In my house are at least half-empty,

I have other vine juices

To contend with, my own solutions

To keep the viaducts inside

Healthy and porous, loyal to America

And productive for solutions

Fighting back our God-given malaise.

Expat Hodgepodge

He rather enjoyed beginning

The mixing up of faces and names,

There was a new vocabulary

To learn and grammar to forget

In our very compact social scene.

After an hour of the changes,

He began twirling out of control

With bulging eyes and a throat

Choked up over syntax

And the new forms of obligations.

He always left after this for another

Gathering and collected data,

So that he might assign new roles

To everyone but not have to change

The character he adopted.

Not Even Wrong

How much time will pass before

These ladies might cling to the unhinged?

They have fallen with stable boyfriends,

But I can see the one future day

When they trade them all for an open sky.

In the mirror your arms will find a way

Over my shoulders and down

To the forests sprouting on my chest,

Both of us bad and beautiful,

Alive as we cycle in between the nights.

The impression of your back will not leave

An outline on the bed as past voices

Of those left behind crest in your mind,

Each of them will try to displace me,

But you will breathe out your old encounters.

The Concordat

Fine, we can call a truce then,

You will stop calling me,

Emailing me, telling me

I am unsatisfactory in every way,

There will be no more

Selling of wares to me,

I promise I will stop sending you

Poems and demanding

That you read them whole,

I will also stop claiming

You need any existential help,

The cognitive verse therapy

For wounds you cannot yet imagine.

Large Scale

The nudity of the neighbors fills out

Her latest works, in charcoal

The fleshy rear ends are still now

Set in place by her delicate hands,

An accidental immortality

It is a benefit of living together

In glass houses next to one another.


Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine,
Red Fez, One Ghana One Voice, Caper Literary Journal, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Grey Sparrow
Journal, Pear Noir, Rabbit Catastrophe Review, and Yes Poetry. His chapbook Common Symptoms of an
Enduring Chill Explained, has been published by Folded Word Press. He maintains a blog at and is looking to publish his first novel.


About vision791

Pushcart nominee Jeanette Cheezum has been published on several online writing sites and in fifteen Anthology books and four poetry books. Three of these books have made the New York Times Best Sellers list. Awarded The Helium Networks Premium Writer’s Badge, Bronze Creative Writing Award and a Marketplace Writers award. Recently she has published fourteen ebooks at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. You may find a list of some of her work at
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Ben Nardolilli

  1. vision791 says:

    It’s been a pleasure to have you here with us for a week.

Comments are closed.