Thursday, September 29, 2011

2 poems || John M. Bennett

canned the babies made from millipedes
of guns a sticky spool gleams on counter o
my OeyeO s cream in the ,log rots behind
garage a leaky foot my slap neck she’s
sitting in the tub a meaty boat a lawn
name whizzes in your bushes where a dus
ty w i n d forgets my named it’s
the leggy current sockless the bright red sink

BULLET BABIES

you’re humming off the driveway was a
dying lake a gummy nostril floating in
his mirror your blot suit aimed to clown
ah drink the bone and crawl Ʌ Ʌ Ʌ in
crepitude a smoky stroll and all her
hands flap back the drinking tower mo
ans m m m a pool of bullets cl
inking at my feet the subnosed stones





my slaw neck door spelling what
“was tumbling” in the streaming pond a
nostril full of empty trucks and coffee
writ with oil l l l l the grunty
table gravel fills the door my runt
tooth remembers . . . . crick ets
boiling in the gutters and my slug
lap names your diarrhea

SPONGE NECK

nor daily efuscorration of the
slumping light nor ,efforiation ,swa
m growlless toward the crimpled
tower taut my ladder dog your
spinning shoe .radiation ,blame ,twat
linker nor my cottage cheese his
plate cracks before my face o joh
nee cleanser ,awake inside the sponge

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