1 by tyler gobble

Image by Peter Cole Friedman

                             Tyler Gobble Poem

Only God knows which plug-in to use, battery in the drawer really vrooms
the electric massager. The fired synapse, the thus 
sticking, like Michael hung up to the Velcro after-
prom wall, after Sharon said no 
to making out in the park. At some point it is a natural 
feeling to eat each other. Lady Praying Mantis 
post-fuck chowdown. The lone wolf ditched 
his pack, only to return after the forest 
fire suffocated all his potential mates and life-
long pals. He's eating his first crush by the river. 
But not Michael, not Sharon, not me in my tuxedo
t-shirt, playing ping pong on the dynamic edge 
between conscious and unconscious. This is what 
the kids are drugging for these days, dragging 
their scarred wrists across the desktops. A body 
emerges from the muck and craves another body.
What to do? I remember Sharon stood 
with her snow cone, like I have hands, sure, but not 
gonna pull that doofus down. This was before
Sharon invited me to the park and I went.

TYLER GOBBLE is chapbook editor of Magic Helicopter Press, Editor-in-Chief of  NOÖ Journal and the host of Everything Is Bigger, a reading series in Austin, TX. He is currently a poetry fellow in the Michener Center for Writers. He has plopped out a chunk of chapbooks, most recently Collected Feelings with Layne Ransom (Forklift INK), and his first full-length MORE WRECK MORE WRECK will be out from Coconut Books at the end of October. He likes disc golf, tank tops, and bacon.