petro c.k.

Dearth Edition

When the newspapers dry up 
and they have not heard anything 
from their existence yet again 
this time of the day 
folds into the wind 
across the straits 
All the words have
fallen in a dying mood 
retreating to the graffiti 
left to wilt inside 
the only empty space 
for us below 

Can't Get No Satisfactch'll

Song of the south
how white 
my shirts can 
zip-a-dee be
Belting out a tune 
on my behind
That's what I
say Uncle

Lux Brumalis 

the undertaker’s 
plastic flowers 
           drops in 

the night of the day 
gone by so fast 
           numbs it, even

The shedding moon
powdered a little starling 
in a sermon of light 
           a hallelujah 
of unformatted midnights 


Oh sure, you can immortalize
the dung beetle of Sisyphus 
They were the only ones 
who have been created 
with the name 
budgeting for this 
useless mush of life 

But Her Fly Occurrences Here

Truth is 
when an 
         ocean is
A hushed lake 
                 revealing your eyes 
              or these crickets 
Murmurs in your 
             uttered the sky 
Architecture forming 
                         overnight in the grass 
       Shadows are the ones 
who are 
                 the light of the earth
How can we get the life of any other 
but red?

petro c. k. is the founding editor of dadakuku (https://www.dadakuku.com), has been nominated for several Touchstone and Pushcart awards last year, and wears black all the time. Influenced by surrealism and dada, the poems presented here have been created in part by using predictive text.
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