Never Trump.

 

The BAD CYBER SALE is here!
Most Unlikely Books 30% off until an undisclosed December date!

Backstories by our editor, Jonathan Penton, is FREE from Argotist E-books!

The Second Editions of anonymous gun. by the late Kurtice Kucheman,
and Monolith and When Red Blood Cells Leak by Anne McMillen are here!

In the bask of computer light my boss
says watch for leaks in the room.
I know now what to pray for. Thunder
burps and rain’s radio static steadies

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Mars shines in a crystal rain of meteor showers, comets stream
Through stellar fires that rage in a galactic night forever. 

Walls laced with bullets crumble, stacks of burning tires barricade
Cities that are echoing with prayers ghosts recite forever.

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It’s quite possible that I won’t get to save today
Anyone, not a single Puerto Rican fished out of the NY harbor.
Fortunately, Facebook colors the waiting
Into the shades of hope and angst:

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has no form, no body, only
light and sound.  This complicates
things greatly, but as he sleeps
she enters him gently, rocks
​his chest as he sleeps, inhabits

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I sit across from him scrolling through the feeds on my phone. I'm not really reading, just trying to avoid witnessing the excessive alcoholic intake of my employer, the way one might avoid looking directly at someone dressing in a locker room.

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Prometheus displays his tats
behind The Dollar Store in Bonita.
The one with the plastic pillars.
Chained willingly to a picnic table,

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the film begins with a house and some blood on the doorstep
and the sound of a distant train disappearing across the moors
destination: unknown at this time
the only listener with his collar turned up against the damp night

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Sharpshooters are still guarding the beaches
in case it happens again.

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Helen of Troy will die,
But Helen of Colorado never.

Counter clerks and soda jerks
Populated the old days. Remember
Woolworth’s? I do, but barely.

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“Fine, don’t answer me. You just show up with your fancy, omniscient powers and give me these vague orders. George, go an’ fight these terrorists in Afghanistan. George, go end the tyranny in Iraq. George, go bring peace to the Middle East. Like I oughtta know how to do all that without more detailed instructions!"

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Whether my path is ineffectual compared against
what justice I might sew if my strengths were applied elsewhere.
I convince myself with fear and escapefulness of
there is no pure good. No option only to heal or live as a clean breath in smoke.

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I’m ready to cash in and call it a shift when I make this mug in a green toupee, gold golf shirt and cocky khakis. He’s all huddled over a stack of $10 chips at the blackjack table. I recognize him, that coyote—that boozer, liar, cheat and irredeemable loser who once went out with my wife.

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