What Rough Beast
This poem takes a golden shovel poetic form, inspired by W.B. Yeats’s 1919 poem, “The Second Coming”. Reading the last word of each line will reveal Yeats’s original poem
Free on the sun’s surface, the tyranny of one-oh-nines glisten in their tears. Free as flesh ripped from children’s cheeks. I prefer to die with head high… than to live in humility and renounce the principles which are sacred to…
Pulped like a fleshlight. Nothing even. Honestly. Put me in the right lighting. My skin looks like Jacob Elordi. What can you do. My fingers. Like hell. Blacked out in 2023. Now we’re here. Like hell. I fly around the…
Uh. The sky is heavy and crunches everything into me. I am the image of the ideal American-boy. I wear a “Bush did 9/11” trucker hat everywhere I go. My tongue is made of a strip of the gadsden flag.…