Never Trump.

 

Jonathan Penton's 2008 chapbook Prosthetic Gods is now available as a free download!

mellowtone has it: that sweet, sad softness that is musically and lyrically congruent; the bittersweet sound that moves from triumph to defeat to joy and pain in absolute stillness.

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Ed Roman isn't relying on classic rock, folk, or pop sounds. Rather, he's creating an intricate kitchen-sink fusion of pop, rock, folk, reggae and country that gives us energetic, spontaneous, even gleeful fun.

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What I have made
I keep making
to death.

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The hallway gave off a musty odor. 
Night after night, lights burned.
Busted dreams heaped in boxes.
​Black marks covered floors. 

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Across Audubon Park, a man makes his bed on concrete, head
inside a cardboard box; feet in fur moccasins require a second
glance at his cradled thighs, hands, face, hidden like the wood duck.

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we brush off our debts

with a heartfelt embrace,

mad tales from the other side,

and an honest smile that sends you back to the bar happy for another stolen round.

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she bowed her head and turned it away
from where the flag had been raised 
as the Soviet national anthem played

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Police created the modern concept of Identity through this assumption of universal guilt among the working class. One is a thief unless one can prove otherwise. Thievery is not merely punished; it is prevented by this pragmatic measure. Have your identity card or go to gaol. 

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i was born at a young age. i arrived before i had any understanding of the ramifications behind my every move. i struggled & screamed bloody murder. obviously i overreacted since i’m on top of the world. that is, in a geographical dig...

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      but when the Mini came to a stop
      a metallic hand came down on her
      left shoulder
      made Gabriella face
      her assailant,
      gibbering

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He reminded his son every few minutes to drink more water. The heat had pushed the boy so far back into his stroller he could barely see him. They winded down street and alley, and everyone stared at them, this odd caravan, foolishly or courageously bearing the conditions, pretending to be walking along as if along the streets of Paris.

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I am all smoke and shifting seasons
crushed pack of American Spirits in my back pocket
we are weak-knee wasted
outside my apartment
vodka-veiled memories all I have of that night

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There was a room for people unable to feel. Inside were captions cut away from their pictures. One task of the day was to find the picture that went along with the caption. When the teacher came into the room wearing his apron of severed heads several people unable to feel cried out for the first time. But it was faux disgust.

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Writing is seen as a form of silence
so everything is read aloud,

traffic signs, shopfronts, TV and radio
are talked over the top of all the time.

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