Robert
Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in
Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in The Blue Pages, Minute, and
Chantwood, among others.
Abandon
stones strike
a broken window
splinters of glass tip
the pavement, clink
shatter
xylophones scream
Catwalk
It would be easier
to get through the mud
if you retracted
your claws
Observation
wanton wamma wither
wakes—
intana fop
kazaa kazaa kazaa
and steaks are grilled
over your feces
salmonwill
you shit the world as you whisper my name
Old Wives
Close the refrigerator before
the eggs melt. Check the map
before you insert the uranium
rods into the reactor. Fly
the friendly skies. When you
have to choose between your
favorite pet and someone else’s
nose, yellow is the way to go.
Englebert Humperdinck wants
YOUR autograph. Remember
to sous vide the egg bites
to exactly 135 degrees. Fahrenheit,
of course. Ask your doctor
about euthanasia today! Put
the sheets on your bed inside out
for a novel way to trap burglars.
Sleep, damn you, sleep. Eat
the chocolate first so you don’t
get worms. If you whistle past
the graveyard only the hot ghosts
will rise. A casserole can sure
anything. Slow and steady makes
for the beat barbecue AND orgasms.
Sixteen Days
doesn't seem like
too long a time
seconds tick
hours crawl
sleep will never
ever come
eternity
can be encapsulated
in sixteen days
I walk around
the room
pick up a pack
of cigarettes
put it down again
the number of times
this can be done
in sixteen days
is uncounted
and best left
that way
in sixteen days
I will have paid
the rent again
done two readings
gone to a conference
yelled at poets
who are often better
at this game
than I
the only times
between now
and sixteen days
from now
that will go
any faster
are in sleep
or in bed
with a beautiful lady
and neither of these
happens
often enough
in sixteen days
I will have bet
a couple of twenties
on the Travers
likely will have watched
Free House win by daylight
and pay $2.40
to some other sucker
cashed my own ticket
when the longest shot
in the field
completes
the exacta
there are many ways
to win many ways
to pass
time
which just goes
and goes
Ten
25,000 chickens
were her lovers
she, their feeder
their bestial teacher
of arcane
human
love
beaks probe
and Betty Lou gasps
in discovery
wonders
if her men
will be this good
trance
the searing whiteness
the gateway to the infinite
the whispering pain
the final bleeding
