Thursday, May 5, 2011


You want to sing of salt and water
and the death of your personal sun
but the dust is rising from the horizon

and the sky around you has turned to brown
while the noon becomes something solid
the streets are emptying, the motorbikes seek shelter
and your skin is stung by less perfect needles
and your eyes have been shocked dry
and the trees are whipped about like your little asshole heart
so you swallow dust into your lungs and tell yourself it’s ashes
to try this sort of sacrament, to summon a less remote god

--Jonathan Penton is the editor of and Unlikely Stories of the Third Kind. He has written four chapbooks of poetry: Last Chap (Vergin' Press, 2004), Painting Rust and Blood and Salsa (Unlikely Books, 2006) and Prosthetic Gods (New Sins Press, 2008). He is standoffish to the point of being unfriendly, which might be why he's so often accused of being an undercover cop, which confuses him because he'd expect undercover cops to be really ingratiating but he doesn't actually know.

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