Press the button to touch god. It won’t go anywhere. As for god, re-imagine the ghost of the last person to have a double life. Pull any Ohio animal. Eat it, then kill it.
new privately self-published chapbook available deer as permission to die in ohio 43 poems, pocketbook style April 2023 collection is pay what you want can be purchased via: paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com) or Venmo: @Barton-Smock-2 or CashApp: $BartonSmock cover image by Noah M. Smock
The astronaut called to recut porn and the caterpillar to soften the palms of the crucified. The pill living in the pill you take. Toy noise from a phoneless hell. Blue doll, erasable wrist.
The space between birth and death is the same for every creature. I say this lightly and I say this as two rooms enter my stranded room. Eating disproves god. Dream is a wasp that sells as its own a mosquito’s art. It’s okay you wanna catch the slow angel. I’ve never been alone and neither have you.
I lose my stutter a clown car passes a cemetery a baby climbs into a baby the blood machine and the no blood machine the same city part
the first boy to play dead waiting for his mother to leave
No one in pain sees god. They're all I watch your seashell movies
Memory only eats itself because it remembers food. Watching is a small room that models its god on being seen. I spit teeth into a fishbowl and the child stays asleep until I run out of children. A tire swing, then a whale, then what. Language is a nightmare. Softcore. Ghostgold. Angels untwisting in silent bread.
Fire takes tornado's home. I still believe we'll recover every tooth stopped by god. If two Ohio newborns in a row do not cry, you'll know they share a ghost. The movie is bleeding and pain is the bone touch wants to be. Angels die. See them all.
kingsoftrain 