Wednesday, May 11, 2016

2 poems || Heath Brougher

Little Miss Tidal

No Eiffel in sweet!
            no sipping of tangerine blood!
no harmonious taste of champagne from the flute!
the last endorphin has been burned 
up in a haze and now there is nothing
of Euphony left to feel

this is a gimcrack of the spirit
            neurons dashed against the rocks

happiness is left to bleed out

and the world is made of cold fingers.
            and                                         nothing else.

The Invention of Noise

A caveman builds a shirt
a caveman builds a weevil
a caveman builds a whirly dervish
a caveman builds a wheel
a caveman builds a house
a caveman builds a Tracheotomy
a caveman builds a split atom
a caveman builds an acid rain
and path and cousin and masking tape
and a noise machine
for your open ears
the caveman builds an event.

The Great Noise is coming.

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