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Poetry #226
(published May 12, 2005)
Shotguns from Junkpile Tubes
by Kirk Davis
Tricked-out spacemen shot diamonds in plentiful arcs and
swung from trees on too-long ropes. Pull!

The early universe was an orchard, autumn with no summer to precede it,
a flock of neutrinos passing through you like an ocean wave.

A house was four doors on a trapdoor that belonged to a tree,
You flung yourself at neighbors. Pull!

¡Plink! ¡Plink! ¡Plink! ¡Plink! ¡Plink! ¡Plink! ¡Plink!
Skeet was cars over the hill from which we made use of every part.

Boys fell from trees with grinful yelps. A bullet was a joke
that got you in the core. And no one ever died.

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by Kirk Davis

The Last few Poetry pieces (from Issues #225 thru #221):

Wish You Were Here
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by Adam Shobert

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by Adam Shobert

Forward Across the Sky
by Jason Polan

Bill Smith
by G. David Schwartz

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