Secondhand Souls
By Carlos Velez
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About this ebook
Secondhand Souls is a collection of poems, and other writings spanning topics of love and grief, music and stories, family and masculnity. All pieces written between the years 2018 and 2022.
Cover art designed by Nora Becker and photographed by Carlos Velez.
Carlos Velez
A writer, musician, poet, composer, and producer, Carlos Velez lives in his hometown of Topeka, Kansas with his partner Elaine and her three kids. As the music artist Scurvy Rickets, he creates music of all kinds including instrumental piano and chamber music, folk and rock songs, hip-hop and anything else that strikes his fancy. As the founder of Top City Records, he is actively engaged in the local arts community of Topeka, Kansas, supporting poetry and author groups and producing music with local songwriters and musicians. A hobbit by nature, he loves a quiet life of hot coffee, moody music, the best of friends, cozy books, and good love.
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Book preview
Secondhand Souls - Carlos Velez
When It’s Just Words
There aren’t always words
But if you put them down
Anyway
If you just take the words
and let them anyway,
mistakes and all
Sometimes it says the truth
Sometimes it sets you free
And when it doesn’t
When it’s just words
Even then
It’s space that was made
It’s a moment spared
For yourself
Secondhand Souls
Inanimate objects can be such grief
When they carry such weight
––––––––
I read a book about soul vessels in a secondhand shop
The items imbued with the souls of dearly departeds
They glowed red with energy
They must have been heavy too
With the weight of memory
History
––––––––
I unpacked mundane things from a box
We packed up, in our old home
Glass jars
Plastic pitchers
A damaged cheese grater that had limped through the last of its usefulness
None were special
You wouldn’t put a soul
A beautiful soul
In a metal soup bowl, with a damaged plastic lid
––––––––
But we put so much soup in that bowl
Maybe if you put enough love in it
a metal soup bowl can be a soul vessel
Certainly the soup was full of love
We made it together
So many soups
––––––––
It’s hard to picture her in my mind
But a soup bowl is easy
And with it, she appears
Ladling leftovers for tomorrow
She’s laughing of course
She’s a laugh-whore just like me
We laugh
We laugh all the time
We made soup while we laughed
––––––––
The soup bowl was heavy
I can’t believe it didn’t glow red
It’s hard to pass it on
To put it away in a box
To let it go
It remembers her
But it’s no use with no lid
It’s not expensive or hand-made or beautiful
It was functional and it has done its work
You can’t keep everything
There must be a letting go
––––––––
But I won’t let go of the picture it gave me
Her laughing
I’ll write it into my memory
In ink and on paper
Into the cloud
Into millions of pixels and millions