Brian Orozco 

NACRE


Folding and unfolding
wears grottos, pocks,
pinholes into the

map. Too the
home wedged into
dusked sky, fold

the Sunday paper
in half three
or four times

to prop open
the summer door.
The pearlescent thin-

king of a
child solves lines 
of addition and

subtraction, playing out
arithmetic dramas, parting
clusters of uncooked

pinto beans in
the absence of
an abacus. A

wonder of yes
as much as
a wonder of

no: in the
absence of an
abacus we have

done a great
job at avoiding
tetanus so far


FETOSCOPE

I arrived at a notion of portraits 
of light (as opposed to portraits 
made with it) while walking 
through a hilled cemetery 
as sunlight grazed 
headstones (like bottled
messages bobbing 
on a surface), exciting 
them like threads of precious 
metals, blooming light 
bulbs against 
the blackening landscape. 


Brian Orozco holds an MFA in photography from the Yale School of Art and an MFA in poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He is currently participating in the Scholar’s Program at the Western New England Institute for Psychoanalysis.