Poetry / December 2014 (Issue 26)


Setting A Mood: Track Two on Your Standard Jazz Album

by Joshua Burns

The objective has no correlative.
Daylight savings time moves back
in this city the tenant every night.

Some cleaning woman intoxicated
on more than just cleaning fluids sifts
garbage and it's a wreck, it’s impossible.

Fishnets open up their holes. The jukebox
powders its nose in smoke. Tin can
peels itself back in unbelievable poses…

Candy-corn-a-thon, all-you-must-eat.
Spinning wheel doctors roam the street,
doing something Nosferatu. Big Jewish noses,-

Sweet tooth monopoly, rock-n-roll on a mop.
The escalator runs carelessly to delete steps.
It's all an experiment. Our control's sundered

so why not surrender it? Each word I do no good.
The goose is cooked, hairdressers do not wear
bulletproof vests. Organized crime in a poem

sounds like Brecht. They've got themselves
buried while standing. Wet newspaper,
many times printed over. Metallica says, “Kill ’em all”.
 
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ISSN 1999-5032
All poems, stories and other contributions copyright to their respective authors unless otherwise noted.