Heath Brougher
Lonesome Landmine
Easy as taking candy from a baby
simple as pie—an 8 eats an 8—
right now like a fingersnappen
fingersnap
broken crumbling gingerbread man crumbs
astrewn.,.,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,,.,.,,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,..,.,..,.,.,acrost
the floor
razzle and tazzle the hair
and Taliban—
bent dust
of the crooked dustmite colony
out of all the dustisms
things that make no sense are bad
bad for the vocabulary and the heart
the plumb of the Pantheistic soul, its amazing depths
has to do with it
an apricot also
just sitting there
its fuzz slowly withering
into wrinkles
to droop
to look swollen and sunken sadfaced
milkweed enters the store
you better let the candles go
—[out]—
whispy waxyhands
and cookiness
to smoke
to drink of the saptree
do it first
to do
nectarine and nicotine
cork and spit
only in america do malls
live in people’s hearts
seen from train the gorgeous French countryside
a virtual unblemished landscape
as is not seen by any train in america
tearyeyed and tall and taught—the True Verdant
unlike molten apricot with wither of facial feature—
one of sorrow the bald apricot
almost had eyes
and combed its hair
as lightningstruck.
Sprinkling Bitterness Upon the Vale
Ousting outward Republicolostomy
bags sway windbruisen and battered
shrink shriveled shrimp
exfoliate reduction
of power
plants leaking
such sludgy slime sticky sickness
out toward
water creek beds
and cradles
bleed the water into vermillion
lakes fish killian hues run
amuck in the
muck made by Mankind.
The Silent Continuum of Bloodflow
Zincy copper and I\will Iwill
want
the wheels to forego the jumpbirthday, the jumpstart [mightaswell]
deplorably depleted roughedup and lashed
made to cottonpick allthewhile shackled
all the cottonpicking now done a little Black Girl licks the cotton candy, smiling—
a smile born out of centuries of pain and cruelty and cage
no trace/not race [look instead at the spirit]
this is not that and that is not this.
where breaks they?
polyester heart makes any solace of the soul a soulless slice of solace
nothing can ever make it “swell” again
not after this
and
Mr. Tragedy tries to teach us
but we never seem to learn.
they are cornpucked [cornpuckered]
at the heart of the matter[heart is electricity contained within the human
and anyothercreatured bodies] don’t say hi with a bolito, it makes a bad 1st impression
swamp akin, rasclif muscle flexmachine
smashedmirror
rain
on sunnysided days
swirling snowflakes
Earthly dandruff
viiiiiiiicks radium
Universe
dances its Universedance
[perambulation is not a necessity
all that need sway with the Universal silence is the brainwaves].
Heath Brougher is the poetry editor of Five 2 One Magazine. His debut chapbook is titled A Curmudgeon Is Born (Yellow Chair Press, 2016) and he has also published 3 pamphlets. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Chiron Review, Of/with, Lakeview, Crack the Spine, The Seventh Quarry, MiPOesias, Word For/ Word, Sonic Boom, Lotus Eater, The Mind[less] Muse, and elsewhere.
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Lonesome Landmine
Easy as taking candy from a baby
simple as pie—an 8 eats an 8—
right now like a fingersnappen
fingersnap
broken crumbling gingerbread man crumbs
astrewn.,.,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,,.,.,,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,..,.,..,.,.,acrost
the floor
razzle and tazzle the hair
and Taliban—
bent dust
of the crooked dustmite colony
out of all the dustisms
things that make no sense are bad
bad for the vocabulary and the heart
the plumb of the Pantheistic soul, its amazing depths
has to do with it
an apricot also
just sitting there
its fuzz slowly withering
into wrinkles
to droop
to look swollen and sunken sadfaced
milkweed enters the store
you better let the candles go
—[out]—
whispy waxyhands
and cookiness
to smoke
to drink of the saptree
do it first
to do
nectarine and nicotine
cork and spit
only in america do malls
live in people’s hearts
seen from train the gorgeous French countryside
a virtual unblemished landscape
as is not seen by any train in america
tearyeyed and tall and taught—the True Verdant
unlike molten apricot with wither of facial feature—
one of sorrow the bald apricot
almost had eyes
and combed its hair
as lightningstruck.
Sprinkling Bitterness Upon the Vale
Ousting outward Republicolostomy
bags sway windbruisen and battered
shrink shriveled shrimp
exfoliate reduction
of power
plants leaking
such sludgy slime sticky sickness
out toward
water creek beds
and cradles
bleed the water into vermillion
lakes fish killian hues run
amuck in the
muck made by Mankind.
The Silent Continuum of Bloodflow
Zincy copper and I\will Iwill
want
the wheels to forego the jumpbirthday, the jumpstart [mightaswell]
deplorably depleted roughedup and lashed
made to cottonpick allthewhile shackled
all the cottonpicking now done a little Black Girl licks the cotton candy, smiling—
a smile born out of centuries of pain and cruelty and cage
no trace/not race [look instead at the spirit]
this is not that and that is not this.
where breaks they?
polyester heart makes any solace of the soul a soulless slice of solace
nothing can ever make it “swell” again
not after this
and
Mr. Tragedy tries to teach us
but we never seem to learn.
they are cornpucked [cornpuckered]
at the heart of the matter[heart is electricity contained within the human
and anyothercreatured bodies] don’t say hi with a bolito, it makes a bad 1st impression
swamp akin, rasclif muscle flexmachine
smashedmirror
rain
on sunnysided days
swirling snowflakes
Earthly dandruff
viiiiiiiicks radium
Universe
dances its Universedance
[perambulation is not a necessity
all that need sway with the Universal silence is the brainwaves].
Heath Brougher is the poetry editor of Five 2 One Magazine. His debut chapbook is titled A Curmudgeon Is Born (Yellow Chair Press, 2016) and he has also published 3 pamphlets. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Chiron Review, Of/with, Lakeview, Crack the Spine, The Seventh Quarry, MiPOesias, Word For/ Word, Sonic Boom, Lotus Eater, The Mind[less] Muse, and elsewhere.
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