Heath Brougher

Amis’s’s Clock 

Our tin(ny)
arrow (history’stime’s) finds endless emptiness 
bleeding astrayward



(a mockingbird pelletwounded in the duncy terrorism of Confederacy)))))

(abuses amass among amygdalas))))))

(reversals reverse as you are unbrought a table of synthetic fruit)))))))

(only one thing makes sense among the mud of the mind and you can’t remember what it is)))))))))

(part of you thinks it might be that monsters are real))))))))))

Built to Rain 

People receive their opinions 
from gumball machines.

Gamble maniacal.
Nevereternal drizzle.
Sprung haughty. 
Developed mouth.
Obscenity prevails.
Brokenboned blasphemies. 
Pretty pederasts. 
Belfry bulletdose.
Walrus blubberbaught.
Copelessly copacetic.
Pristine rotgut.
Ad om-inom. 
Captured fission.
Tense albino.
Simultaneous bells.
Albuterol adjectives.
Petrochemical petrichor. 
Rain no longer exists.
Night falls on a hotel in Pennsylvania.
By morning the wooden walls 
will be rough with drought. 
No matter how thirsty life will get,
and despite the missing rainwater,
nothing will be fully quenched. 

Life is too stubborn to allow it. 

The False Façade of Faces 
            The facade
            the face-odd
 the face odden compared to otherfaces
fortability levels de
                        from what you have seen
                        seein’ in
just like the duck eyes painted on a blank ruler
            for the ducklings
            to view as they hatch
and follow around in order 
as they would their actual mother.
human brain
is easily tricked
could lead to your doom
or to your savior
as you catch the faceless sniper like a duck in a noose

Pineal Perceptions (part 14)

indigenous vibrational 
topheavy manifestations
aperture abloom
various turtleheads
communicating “flow”
sling shove
peacefully beckon
heart noose
unsurgical bloodspouting
unremnant roads
captured visioning
rubicund eyefulls 
energetic fluorescence 
newfangled switchfangled 
digitalized da(y)ze 
everywhere epiphanies 
existent explosions 
perfectly unpixilated 

The Fragile Hay(na)ku 

people don’t 
spill so pretty 

Heath Brougher is the Editor-in-Chief of Concrete Mist Press and co-poetry editor of Into the Void, winner of the 2017 and 2018 Saboteur Awards for Best Magazine. He received Taj Mahal Review’s 2018 Poet of the Year Award and is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee. He was also awarded the 2020 Wakefield Prize for Poetry. He has published 11 books and, after spending over three years editing the work of others, is ready to get back into the creative driver seat for a bit. He has four books forthcoming in 2022 and 2023.
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