Heath Brougher

Stasis, Disappointment

So I found myself
[I am constantly finding myself
wherever I seem to go]
with my both of my feet
stuck in a tiny Sinkhole.
It wouldn’t budge
so I was trapped
and kept finding myself
in the middle of nowhere
for an entire year
before someone finally
happened upon me
and helped pry me from
the Sinkhole which was now
up to my neck.
I found myself quite happy
with my newborn freedom
until I returned home
only to find out that my membership
to the Symbionese Liberation Army
had expired and they would not
allow me to rejoin!

To Languish

Stuck, I'm,
now; nowhere
to move or even
think; the random society
has forced this down on me;

I feel I've nothing left to give;
nothing left to offer of
my own broken insides;
battered and
drained, I'm.

Pain in May

Vile annoise
                rivenrun down
spinal specimens
                aleaking lineage
of marrow’s mourning
                bruisen painful
tissue tear
                unhealed scar
constantly reopening.


Lavender lies laugh under her young, unwrinkled eyes,
still thinly veiled maturities spill
from her mouth so unfamiliarized
and unknowingly frailly disguised
in the garden's basement as I measure
the inches from the base to tip
of these funny falsehoods she so terribly hides
beneath the dumb facade in which all youth
seem obliged to imbibe for a brief period of time.

At least for that time of her life,
sprouting in size, reality not yet fully realized.
Not yet fully actualized, her attempts to disguise the Truth
are weak and marginalized as she
is yet to be fully actualized though
she is, without question, alive,
having over a decade ago attained existence
when she fully materialized
from that plane of so many mysteries.

Rise and Refract

Spoken of         God raised
rosemary rosin bags
having arrived, arises,
reflecting up and down
among additional mist mixed into Light 
river straight wide lunar— 
a bushel of push-all of Might
brings us commodious 
run river 
RISEN-rose                 rise rise
irradiating a truckfull
of atomic Light—> though mutated—>
could still hold up 

Heath Brougher is the co-poetry editor for Into the Void Magazine, winner of the 2017 and 2018 Saboteur Award for Best Magazine. He is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Nominee. His work has been translated into Albanian, Afrikaans, French, Serbian, and 5 other languages. He published three chapbooks in 2016, two full length collections, About Consciousness (Alien Buddha Press 2017), and To Burn in Torturous Algorithms (Weasel Press 2018), and has three collections forthcoming. His work has appeared in journals such as Taj Mahal Review, Brave New Word, MiPOesias, The Pangolin Review, Angry Old Man, Mannequin Haus, Futures Trading, Red Earth Review, BlazeVOX, and elsewhere.
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