Keith Higginbotham

How Late is Then

thumbtack hysterics:
blue stars, fast foods fly
                               to comrades

clue the garden commas
of storms on the ceilings
of our
                               Arcadian past

of words cataracting
the grapevine, rotten
                               dawn of

the delirious roulette of
actors as


no ears come with ether


the preaching shape of the wherewithal
like a boner      like

mode of the school pants accident
the cities’ seaweed all over the blood town

he could not god through
scissors or shoes          or
film out like birds to split a monolith


utopians’ rock trick of the experts
wild in the street’s streets

Ebonic Dress

from pluperfect chauffeurs
your dusty ebonic dress

oblong shorts barbed
with colanders and

flayed glacier monitors
paint the planet éclairs &

bait past the frisson’s
arbitrator anus float

SoHo Morning

bereft of gesture
the glee of light
grows pipes

lashes harmonics

schoolhouse of
skin stops the sub

More Someone

I was all nothingness and everything,
a glass there in the counterfeit wash.
I was a man of brownstones. I lived
in the flesh of lobbies, walked the
psychic avenues, waiting for the great
future-past, like mold. Remembering
smudge. Skin rash. Boiled style blob
soul beet for shoes. I got more metallic.
October’s holes blew a circus in. I
turned a turntable. Tongue clubbed.
Abysmal orange heresies in symbols.
We jacked the fluid night all up in
black apropos of the mistake
machine—we brought a dirty flag.
We cranked the miming sound lacing
the orchard turned in blank mood
cures. All my arms wheeled away.

Keith Higginbotham's
publications include Grace Notes (illustrator) (Unknown Press), Calibration (Argotist eBooks), Theme From Next Date (Ten Pages Press), Prosaic Suburban Commercial (E∙ratio Editions), and Carrying the Air on a Stick (The Runaway Spoon Press). He lives in South Carolina, U.S.A.
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