by Nicolas Destino

When you live alone you can put thing s where you wish.
Alone, you can contaminate your own environment and spill
olive oil on an orange floating in the sink.
You can Sink where you want to, in your own part-icles,
part the water in your own sink, create miracles.
You can say things like excuse the mess. Would you like a drink?
When you live alone you are naked more often.
If another man is naked with you in bed, you can say welcome visitor.
If another man contaminates your environment, you can say
thanks for coming over,
and you can clean up after him with old rags
only you know where to find.

(“Saturday Morning” is printed here today with permission from the poet.)

Nicolas Destino’s work has appeared in The American Poetry Journal, The Bellevue Literary Review, Barge Journal, 580split, 322 Review, and others. He is a graduate of the MFA program at Goddard College, and his first full-length collection of poems, Heartwrecks, was released by Sibling Rivalry Press in 2013.

Editor’s Note: I have been a fan of Nicolas Destino since he was published in the Friday Poetry Series here on As It Ought To Be last year. There is a lulling quality to his work. A rise and fall of language like waves that either gently lap against wet sand or swell and crash as torrential surf. If his poems had arms, I feel as if they would wrap around me and rock me; comforting, familiar, gentle, but with intent.

Today’s poem is a snapshot of the familiar. Of the struggles one has as an individual. Self-perception of one’s own space, of one’s own independence and control. There is a beauty in Destino’s vision of what it is to live alone, and, yet, beneath the surface of that beauty is dissatisfaction with that lone existence, of an uncleanliness inherent within it.

Today’s post is dedicated to a special occasion in the poet’s life. Mazel tov and congratulations on your marriage, Nicolas. Here’s to having found love worth cohabitating for!

Want to read more by and about Nicolas Destino?
322 Review
Verse Daily


  1. I love this (peace), similar somehow (to the depth of my beingness, where the vessel becomes one with The All ) to Y. AmiChai’s, ‘Ode to a Child.’
    “Mazel Tov” and a hundred thousand blessings to Nicolas and Seth! Love, Light.


  2. Love it, sounds like my apartment. Did you take this picture, Sivan? Why can’t all poets be this good looking?


  3. @ Lezlie – I did not take this picture, but it IS gorgeous! If all poets were this good looking what ever would we have to write about?!


  4. I searched for Nicolas Destino’s name after reading a compelling piece of nonfiction he wrote appearing in the current issue of Bellevue Literary Review, Vol. 11, No 1 ( The title of the piece is “Travel of Sound.” It’s an odd bit at first glance, all numbers and analysis, nothing I would read normally, for I can barely multiply accurately to gain percentages and only then when I simply must have something in a store that’s near the end of my budget. Curiosity got to me, though, the phrases in this swelling piece couched in poetic rhythms, and I confess that soon I could not stop reading. His is a gift to move the head and, oh good-golly, the breakable heart. We’ll see his name often, I know, and be grateful for it.


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