Damon Hubbs


tulips

the 
     rebo 

O
           oo
 Oo
o 

      O

         OO
  O
                   Oo
     Ooo
o
                                   00o
    Oo    
o.     
unding ball’
s 
forking / 
\ path 

distracted by tulips
 


whac-a-mole

for years 
he never had to trade up 
a small stuffed animal 
for a larger one 
so the day
he retired his mallet
to join the Animal Liberation Front
our village victor 
left us feeling 
as if we’d sunk 
into a hole 
with no 
score
 


Poché, Brutalist

a rational machine for living in
     right-
angled 
chrome volumes / Years of Lead
     you cannot leave traces in sink 
                                                    estates

Trellick Tower 
Villa Ronconi
     body-
blocks the hard line / horror concrete
     & the bloodshed
                              of Verner Panton furniture

who 
is the 
writing 
on 
the 
wall

 

Identity Codas

a  
     see-
saw
      c
      r
      o
      s
      e
      s 
        the Rubicon

and the line of 
fish say 
thwop
    muah, boop
alea iacta est 

 

Deconstructed Cadralor

i.

there is a picnic but only paper plates are served.
an ancient tusk glides across a blue kiddie pool.
it’s like standing water in which nothing stands. 
this is how residents in a small town describe 
the total eclipse. something happened, then it was over

ii.

lunar highlands inspiral beachward and a regolith of ghost nets 
tread the slick black current. lobtailing, once, twice, the whale 
orbits the harbor. jonah is a geosynchronous satellite shaping 
starless nights. until a wall map opens to the sight of floating gold

Damon Hubbs is interested in mansard roofs & 80s synthesizers. His poetry has appeared in Book of Matches, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Otoliths, Streetcake, Scud, Sparks of Calliope, Fixator Press, Roi Fainéant Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Beatnik Cowboy and elsewhere. Links to Damon's most recent published work can be found at dmhubbs.blogspot.com. He lives in New England.

 
 

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