Neil Brosnan

the heels of his poor man shoes were each worn down on the outside edge and the laces were white string knotted to where the black had broken… he...

piss stains on the wizard sheet pulled from last night’s bed southern clown klansman gown fearful eyes beneath a cut­out pillowcase boo inside a bigot’s head black Bible talk behind...

baby left sometimes she leaves stays away… I wait I can’t stand waiting – cannot make her come back soon enough   slowly time erases sorrow slakes sleepers wake again together one on one laugh away the hours lost the shadow’s left slowly fading on...

fly on a peeling sill every surface potential edge of the world   eyes filled with light food wooed pile of dog mush bit of cheddar asparagus spear all the same to it   frustrated...

once words were bees your pollen enticed tore from my heart’s hive   torrid drones your scent convulsed coaxed from shadow compelled to speak sumptuous words   only those bees could. *** By NEIL BROSNAN:   bees

ninety-nine names of God in a hat   choose what you need throw the rest back   take the God without image God without face distort him to service the cause you...

on account of all the bookworms in the library I’ve decided to read at home. *** BY NEIL BROSNAN: a version of aversion

Broken man, your fists, two blue sphinx curled atop a frayed wool blanket guarding what wastes beneath.   And still, that ruthless countenance remembered from childhood… your brute face eyeing me...

after a final sip the master crushed his favorite cup bid each honored guest farewell retreated to the garden to rend from flesh undying essence   sever the shadow of the moon...

Sunday Christian radio Jesus on every other station the frequency of God stero summoned sermoned into farmland and suburbia I avoid content for now with Lady Ga Ga as I blow past a...

insatiable appetite eats everything kidneys heartbeats dreams devours without end flies under the radar of patriotic flags revolutionary anthems licks mouths dry where lipstick once gave beauty reign leaves rictus grins on exhausted faces runs fat hands...

sleepless night toss and turn remembering when relived again amended to no avail   up-ended brought forth into that darkness promising clarity   absolute darkness entreats   silence traps…   your beating heart resurrects over and over refuses end. *** BITTER POEMS: echo BY NEIL...

bum feet street-beat wise sunk in banged up shoes previously dumpster swiped lean hobo soled holed haloed covered in foot funk sock stink grime   no blue suede shoes snappy tassel loafers…   gamy high-top sneakers here retro Corso’s weary worn down creased re-knotted raced in hiked trod...