Bio: Heath
Brougher is the Editor-in-Chief of Concrete Mist Press and co-poetry
editor of Into the Void, winner of the 2017 and 2018 Saboteur Awards
for Best Magazine. He received Taj Mahal Review’s 2018
Poet of the Year Award and is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net
nominee. He was also awarded the 2020 Wakefield Prize for Poetry. He has
published 11 books and, after spending over three years editing the work
of others, is ready to get back into the creative driver seat for a bit. He has
four new forthcoming books, including his first book of nonfiction.
Politick
You are tantamount to the chaos and killing occurring
in spontaneous riots. You feast upon your brothers and sisters. You have
the audacity to consider yourself “the chosen one.” You cause the
summers to end early. You rust the silver linings. You have never raised the
bells. You’ve only brightened the blight. You are
jargon and rotgut. You are racism and radiated rats.
You are searingly superfluous and continuously cough craziness into the
world. Your existence makes this human experience a darker place.
***
Talons
Does absolute zero smell
similar to the abyss?
I ask because my shadow
can no longer be contained in a pixel.
Not even a spent half gallon of pi.
It's time to break
from living in the biggest buckets
we can fit on our heads.
The end of death will never come to fruition
but we can try to sight as much light as possible.
Enoch and Ah Pook go their separate ways.
***
Wicked Whereabouts
Within and without the sheepfolds and lurk-lounges you
attempt to escape/evade/elude/invisify yourself but, even with the guise of a
noon dressed as midnight, there is no way to hide the scourge of your
materialistic makeup. You are nothing more than swine bathing in pools of
insanity. You are on the outside of Humanity’s inside joke. We wish we could
weep for you but after all you’ve done our tear ducts are parched as a ragged
desert bone.
Stunningly original as always, Heath.
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