Cannibal sun
Cannibal sun
look! look! look!
an oil rig
a sheet of disasters
spreading
stammering verse until
greener earthquakes ensue
mad mandible
maverick staircase
stains
& all the
other catastrophic
mementoes
once a laser thin operation
away! away! away!
an army of
medieval mummified
remnants
the size of a carpet sample
awake to invoke
stadium seating
visible snake charming
folding under like a shirt
in limping tattoo
overpass of a
highway
skull lessened
grouped together
according to
guttural sounds
dropping a
droplet
never made sock puppets
into heroes
or stakes
into ornaments
or brides into
fathomless lashes
brimming to fill
stopgap mansions
then through storms
beach covered speedo
skipping to beating
tornado puddle
saddled w/
debt trampolines
forthcoming dimensions
spear themselves
soiled enough to be
refuse
wasteful in
diameter
speeches yonder wonder
taken as a
given as a
raging
crumb
worm kissed
worm kissed scrawny tongue
and collapse beside a stove
w/o pipes a grimace shivers
the flight it takes to sign a membership
last enhance
against a fence
posted chalkboard
headless promenade
whether running
in place of division
intervention could
spell constant
foiled zone of
multiplied rejection
mattered less than
horizontal symbols
used to spell
a dear john letter
pasted to an
apple core
then this did
to an unto to
an enormous hawk
wingless as contrarian delight
famous injunction
against a train conductor
of the spirit engulfing
cowardice like a stone
unturned
to be the cowlick
once removed
fatty fatty fatty
advanced state
of disrepair
decomposing teeth
to meet a formal dress
a tire attired
in the latest
membrane
monstrosity
clever enough to will a motorcycle
to sleep
for a limb is a cellular
mishap
for a branch snapped
a diamond
full title
left un-
observable
spasms galore
spasms galore
gunk
sinking ships masterful
zoned out to a zonk!
buried enough spare feathers
to contemplate a swing set
through letterbox deception
the panther strikes at
midnight
help! there’s
a
GOETHE in my
SOUP! &
i don’t know
what to do about it!
the healing power of
sulking the dripping
perfume of
pig’s feet &
for the cost of
a corner
you could
get a dime
for the sake of a
priest you could
get a
disease
Joshua Martin is a Philadelphia based writer and filmmaker, who currently works in a library. He is the author of the book Vagabond fragments of a hole (Schism Neuronics). He has had pieces previously published in Prolit, E-ratio, Nauseated Drive, Fixator Press, The Vital Sparks, and Breakwater Review among others. Check out Joshua's blog at https://joshuamartinwriting.blogspot.com/