Heath Brougher



The Pennsylvania Butter-knife Massacre

You stole
Thanksgiving

by
taking it ransom

with a
butter knife

by force
you the consummate

outsider you
lurking in the autumnal

darkness
of dinnertime hours

should have
picked a sharper knife

one that
gave you a better chance

at
thievery’s success

at
least you didn’t

bluntly
bludgeon anyone

[creating Thanksgrieving]

at
the table

to
make it appear

as if
the cranberry sauce

had
exploded at ground zero

atomic splatter
at the middle of the table

the epicenter
while panicked

friends
and family would’ve been

shaken and
surprised never expecting

you
to have

such
violent tendencies

and
you’d say

“but
I thought this

was
supposed to

be
a celebration

of
American culture.”



A Slice of Stalin Pie

You are a slave the great silent pogram
coursing through the veins of the world;
in Stomachville [every town is Stomachville] you make me sick;
keep that asbestos outta the ground, would ya? outta the dermis of the Vale—

Spanish Spinach dips of quohawk status at Chuck’s, a pizza joint owned by a giant mouse donning a hat and vest [or rat?—                what’s the difference?]                [are rats bigger or are rats just outdoor mice?—                who the fuck am I talking to?— ]

through thought
Pynchon is pretty geniusical—                               his books
not commonly wrought,
readers left reeling
really reeling readers turnt befuddled

[you will get your sloppy puckerkiss]

spread Martians by wind blownover
hyena hygene
the girl in a summer dress with elk horns growing out of her head
at least not a Medusinal woman with electric ells growing out of her head wavering in electric jolts
zaps
               [a great Sapienening of the Vale is happening]
sapling sipping the water from the dirt, agrowing.

(note: talk more about sudden death of hummingbirds—counter them with the sudden inexplicable death of bees—liken them to bees ((more sudden hummingbirds actually)) (( ((giant flippingwinged insects))) (((dinos))) ((precepts of raindeath)) ((Tinnitus kept me in the frozen this jail of this Januarium hovering over us with pink sky pinkeye pigeye;))

if you count there will be a human in the belly of the tree        branching out [naturally?]

I blunk a blunk and missed everything else you published with your mouth—

for once a foot tall
                                                             and never the limelight
                is not even of taste—
                                              you’re rickets have multiplied
I dialed out and Fozzy Bears answered

                limn lipwooden language       at cost
      the most                                                                             money I’ve evern carvern seen
                                                            see-ee-ee-n visions of the world unite!
and witness the essence of the Manmade version of the Vale!—




                                                            [A SPILLED CAN OF PAINT]




Heath Brougher attended Temple University. He has been previously published in BlazeVOX, MiPOesias, Diverse Voices Quarterly, Of/With, Van Gogh's Ear, Inscape Literary Journal, and elsewhere.
 
 
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