World Cup Found Poetry: “Yellow” (Brazil/Germany)

The movie Monsters
both wore yellow,
haunted by what happened
(whatever you want to say)
the day they took the Tube.
The frustration isn’t
a morbid fascination;
otherwise there’s no space.
You and I are pinching
cause I’m running out of words.
This towel was,
struggling with illness,
a place to hide his face.

World Cup Found Poetry: “Oxygen” (Brazil/Chile)

On my own, I feel alone and afraid.
Tigerishly biting into
the nerves.
There will be an amnesty;
that spying was going on
over the self-destruct button.
Like the engines misfiring
to oxygen in daily requirements
imprinted on the soul.
The very definition of optimism:
Hard labor, this
lucky general, generally.