1 by tyler gobble
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.
|
Proudly powered by Weebly