"Oh, this," "Oh, and this," and "Things fall apart"

Oh, this

Face plant mid
afternoon after
cheeseburger, delete
sad poem, paint in
wedges. Drag Nadine
from Santa Barbara,
kicking. Light super
market candles in a
circle yet don't bathe
for days. Reach across
decades pull out friends
some dead already. You
should really do some
thing with your hair.
Yes, I had to keep
painting so I could
stand to sit down
Drag more corpses
across the continent
gave this one the
cowboy boots he was
murdered in, that one
the roller skates she
rolled away on. Buy a
bike with drug money
then sweat it out in
Hoboken considering
logistics. Light more
candles in famous church
then lumber down 5th Ave
and into canyon. So much
meat. Pull a 360 on I-80
in blinding snow.
Find a vein in Jane St
Hotel. When you go out
it's not in bright light
it's a thudding train. It's
sleepy. Oh and now helicopters
in a small circle of trees.




Oh, and this

Prairie logic so scrotum
scrub, family howls from
trees. Deadlocked poets
poke each other with
forks, vomit grassland
now it's a suburb pull
meat from fire and inevitable
face grease and cigarette
decorative scarf yells from
audience, hierarchy howl
also. Come down hill in
chinos and back catalog
on virus O we look at the
sky now, neat. Dust small
spaces just enough to
breathe before boot
shine. Dust head. Dust
longing long into black
night one sings.



Things fall apart

Emo tantrum in arched eye
brow glitter, there, and
there. Has-been fuck
wad earth sponge lift
shoe slime around an
other corner. Incandescent
heart-shame 12 feet under
bowling opera on shaky
stage in crowd of on
lookers. Boy, we tore
the nuts off that one, she
combs cum through
her hair. Tiny candle
lit drum squad with
thimbles. Arch enemy
sets em up, knocks
em down, slurs a
speech, wanders
down street in pre
diabetic rage. Least
understood comic of
the 70's grins in ocean
view townhouse, makes
pancakes, understood
yet degraded clock
work ninjas in the
trees. We paint
everything now so
beastly athletics.
Blatant projection
under orange sky
thimble midgets.
Cathode under
belly virus breed
socks hung in a
row after the dryer
died. Now that carpet
is underappreciated
arch angels go
numb pretend ghetto.
Tore up foreplay
everyone got their
prize and made
soup. When the
hill burned down
the theater kissed
there. Popcorn
fanatics tore up
this town, then
raged further
Helicopter dick
roar hilltop then
put it all in the
car, piled on hot dogs
for ballast. A haircut
then a pavilion the
grease holds under
study pulls gun, then
it's america. TV babies
crawl from colleges with
opinions after forced
sitting hundred guitar
wankers playing same
3-note riff for days.
You know the one. When
I painted this room I was
frantic. Holistic street litter
just outside, now, and
noon, she should have
ripped his head off. Re
tail pantsuit rips heads
off before recorded
time then genuflects
then moon swing.



Mike Boyle

Mike Boyle has been writing since the 80's and has appeared in many lit journals. Published work includes Dollhouse (2007). He lives in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. 


Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Tuesday, April 7, 2020 - 22:32