The Stoplight that Blocked my View of Heaven

An image of three streetlights on an empty street, illuminating a foggy night in a way that makes their beams extend out into the air.


What would you call the halo

draping rectangular brick

metal, wrapped around circuits

that feed electrons into dark LEDs?

Dark for even at dusk, their glow

was shadow in the wake of rays stretched

out in orange. Neat little dots, red

like the coals in hell remind me

that I’m in a device and facing one larger.

A frailness held me tighter

than the strong grip on a wheel, so tight

that tears performed little baptisms on the edge

of my dry lips. How could I expect time

to hold me there, close to a certain vision that

I may never see again? Of course, a constructed flash

broke that spell, thrust me into blue realities.


Go! Faster now! For

Outside the matrix is only

Death, black and

Impossible to know.

Some will tell you

Inside dead flesh another world is

Nigh, but know that

That is written in

Human blood, not

Even in stone. Know that

Many joys

Abound in the kingdom

Caught with two eyes!

Here live the angels

In simple visions,

Not so beatific, but


Outlasting the black boxes and

Far stronger than UV rays is

Living skin, human skin

Inundating the world with a

Feverish heat. Therein lies not

Everlasting life, but maybe hope.


An image of Jamario Cantrell, a person with short hair and glasses squatting down and smiling at the camera.

Jamario Cantrell is a poet, traveler, and content creator. His work is concerned with the intersections of the human condition with powerful, yet fleeting experiences. He has work featured and forthcoming in FEED, Maw, the Agapanthus Literary Collective, the Jupiter Review, and Bombfire. He currently lives in Port St. Lucie, FL where he's at work on his first collection of poetry. He can be found on Twitter: @CantrellJamario.