two souls
at the graveyard
do not see each other,
accidentally collide, and
combine
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Author Archives: J⊙seph Amm⊙ns
noctalimena
two kids live on their bikes
one is standing, pedaling
dead leaves tumble clumsy
across the black pavement
it is not halloween
or anything
each different night
has its name, a shade
of black for its nature
for people have names
of sound, but for nights
it’s different
snugged up in our oo
my skin gets cold creeps
when i’m thrilled, then
you read the braille
on my armbacks
with your fingerprints
just as good as an aurora
is an ouroboros inside
an amethyst terrarium
(inside an alaskan zoo
(inside the middle
of january))
No man’s land
I saw an anxiety
behind you, loud,
moving fast like a car
accident, a false promise
of pain on its happy way
I saw a bully
wrapped in uniform
moving like the god of
confidence, a true believer,
a self of steam
I saw multitudes
in half, in quarter,
moving like music
boxes, a big cylinder
inside for grinding
stupid & violent
busy, stupid quarks
infiniplicating like sea monkeys
why? why what.
shh, tilt your head and listen…
“IT IS MY SOLEMN
DUTY TO EXIST,”
the whole universe is bellowing
very uncomfortably
loudly (because the magnificent
universe is, on the
larger scales, a bit
of a moron). fact:
nothing can escape a
black hole, not even
your bright idea, so
just, just, just
just let it go, kiddo
you’re gonna die
in that darkness
(because the glorious
universe is, on the
larger scales, mostly interested
in violence)
The Kitchen
Heaven
Smells like bacon
Cooking in the morning
Scrumptious whiffs of fatty bacon
And in
Hell, well
People smell a lot like bacon
When their fat is cooking
So Hell smells like
Bacon
Get These Please
Two custom eyes
A private lake for looking
A pawn for sale
At the pawn shop
And a nice, fat checking
Account for marriages
Two nice, fat marriages
A bicycle for the yard plants
Your gigantic mother-in-law’s tongue
For our fucking bed
Room and room –
All the room in the land
After that, some time
(But not that much, Jesus
Hurry up, please)
A couple of daughters
Who are just frighteningly smart
And a literal sun
(For a Dyson sphere)
Just one of those, though
Like a small one
For fun
A boxcar of American Spirit
And get yourself a Pepsi
Or something
orion’s belt
am i
heir to this rage?
whose fucking bed is this?
oh frightening, colossal star god,
it’s mine
my plans:
constellations
(silly lines drawn between
one explosion and another) –
fine art
in dreams
i crack my belt
over dad’s ass until
he’s trembling like mom did when he
moved out
life is a gift say thank you dammit
the buffalo
the baby
the king of the jews
i worship what i kill
i can almost smell the ocean
through the bleach
and at this
i take the greatest offense:
my life’s the second
half of a sentence
uttered by a pair of parents)
don’t worry child
i said don’t fucking worry
there’s no goddess of the bonobos
who punishes the chaste
and the onanist
and the barren
you don’t have to make
babies, bison, sense
none of it
but you don’t get
to not want to
teeth
the seraphim
standing sentinel
at the chain-link fence
round the jungle of eden
are not vegetarians
just picture god’s
mouth water when
she thought of sizzling
lamb fat at the altar
remember that angel of death?
probably certain people
have hearts lighter
than god’s – well – no
i guess god has the power
of self-absolution, tricky tricky
if anything in heaven
if one single thing has
a mouth, just knock me
out, i’d rather sleep through
eternity than listen to more chewing
decortication
the acolytes of science
dictate i cannot reach
emotional maturity for
another couple decades
(by no fault of my own
(by way of my y-chromosome))
so i sob in the meantime
and laugh and sob and
grip my fists in anger
and if you asked me why i
felt some way, i couldn’t say
i might peel my own artichoke
to measure the shape
of my very own heart
but how do you reassemble
an artichoke?
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