Heath Brougher

Death Definal

W r e t c h e d    T r a c k i n g
ov [om]                      Truth  ,,
a communicat-I-on
USEually on the basis daily
gon[m]e witTHIN a w(hiplash)withered
iN the pRe-SeT a(aaaaaaaaaa)ge
tin(n)y wilted ha(m)nds h(over)over a butto[m]n
cap(size)able of a w(rising)ringing-ing-ing
thE(e) w(ow!)hole Ear(s)th
die(I)ing holocaustically br(aught)ought forth(e) “sa(aim)ne” imbibers
Styrofo(a)m  !  unrestricted plumes  !  back tides of fish kill  !
gulping(!) al(l)mighty f/ashion statements of OIL  ! 
l(eyes)ies  !  no trans-paren(see)cy 
brought unTO(O)/upON the POP-u-lace
when death is p(lausible)robable
in maSSiVe/probably pro(peller)digious
PilE(stonian)s of bOdIeS to be a gi(ant) with(eth)er/withdrawal
of(f) LIVES still li(e)ving soon placing TheM
in r(eems)ealms of the unKNOWN ,,
aKa a (k)new Sentience
AkA no more hu(gh)man EXISTENCE  !  !  !  !  !

The Questionist

Good Lordy rosy rocks spit rickets
into the Voided realm
all come together now
sharing our 46 & 2 perceptions
smartly smiling teeth
tethered to the gums
not pulled out by slammed door;
simply fallen out nice, easy, and honestly.
Simple as pulling a candle off of a cake
or plucking teeth from a meth head's mouth.

Melting Bones

Toadhog plugs up the gullies.
Tangerine tortoise. Snippet of abb-
reviation. Put forth a pair
of different hands in this human experience. Once clean. Now covered in filth.
The snotflowers have been in bloom ever since boney mammals and beached whales
began leaving their carcasses behind with nowhere else to go. This savior flower evolved so creatures could have land to walk on
instead of a monotonous mountainous pile of discarded bones
which would have made it impossible for mammalian existence
to even evolve so I'll stop writing about this
heavily muddled temporal causality right...

Not Even Begun

The bookgarden sprouts pages
upon which dangle pitch black words.
Every empty canvas, snowflake similar,
is different than the others.
The stars are made of poetry.
The ether is made of philosophy.

But, until we can start downloading hard drugs
through these computer wires,
we really haven't accomplished much yet, have we?

Time Moving Sideways 

After centuries in the stock market 
I decided to head to the Wild West 
and become a tumbleweed salesman. 
This, of course, was after the first time
the Universe had cracked.
There was nothing like looking u
at that slat of sky, that cornucopia of colors,
emerging from a Multiverse exploding 
into what was once a soloist Universe.
After the second crack in the sky, 
I, just as you, floated through the atmosphere  
like gravy at the speed of light.

Heath Brougher is the poetry editor of Into the Void, winner of the 2017 and 2018 Saboteur Awards for Best Magazine. He is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net as well as winner of the 2018 Poet of the Year Award from Taj Mahal Review. He has published 8 books, the most recent of which are To Burn in Torturous Algorithms (Weasel Press, 2018), The Ethnosphere's Duality (Cyberwit, 2018), Tangential Dithyrambs (Concrete Mist Press, 2019), and Change Your Mind (Alien Buddha Press, 2019). His work has appeared in journals such as Brave New Word, Chiron Review, Cruel Garters, Zoomoozophone Review, Lotus-Eater, Silver Pinion, Fowl Feathered Review, BlazeVOX, and elsewhere.
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