Four Poems by Mike Zone

 

Parking lot meditation

What do you think of knives

Voices from a passing car

“sharp”

I want to reply

In the conversation I am excluded from coming upon an upside down goose on crumbling parking lot pavement as I start to contemplate mortality

neck underneath its enfolded wings and back

people will observe this sight and just say sad

where are our minds?

Struggling with doppelgangers

Just like us

We have polish in a digital mirror

For days and hours

Until real rot sets in

Mind/body consumption through something darkly bright-sided by whatever they got

I want to turn this waterfowl over

But already know

Like most of us

The head’s gone missing

Consumed

 

 

Nocturnal promises

Last night I drank more than usual and prayed to your god of guilty kisses and shameful lamentations

The night for me has always been the time for sacred truths

You told mem you adored the way I teased your hole

and as I entered you

gradually at first

patience surrendered into virtuous passion and a heavenly savage thrust

you jerked wildly

our sweat and juices like nuclear fusion

as I took your face in my hands

your lips quivered

eyes calms and alighted

deeper

unfurling

inside you

your legs wrapped tighter

drawing me closer

pelvic bones not quite grinding

I want it all with you

I surrender myself to you

I desire

Your blemishes

You scars

Everything

That makes you

More than beauty

More than cognitive revelry

More than the entirety of you

More than the entirety of me

Us

And as we clasped hands

Sealing it all with a kiss

Little did I know

how little promises would be kept

the nocturnal broken underneath

the painful illumination

of revelation

 

 

The greatest number

Can you feel the aggression

Coming off the moving cars

They know it can’t work anymore

Blue dreaming

My father slipping into dementia

Gets upset when I openly smoke cannabis in the house

as he the next morning

taking empty beer bottles to Target will ask after 100mgs of edibles for breakfast

how many god damn women will I have to wait behind in line?

Nineteen, dad

Nineteen

 

 

Frequency

Radio waves

Sex in space

Source manifestation

Deadening acts

Intergalactic rapture

relationships

eternal

ghost-point

non-zero pattern recognition

mystic reconfiguration

love does not haunt

the adoration of fantasy

does your house have lions and does the shelter breathe?

how far will you let your heart beat?

Flooding transitions

Bloody transmissions

Don’t roar past the gate

breathing

winds of an ever allusive

first time

Mike Zone is the former Editor in Chief of Dumpster Fire Press and managing editor of Concrete Mist Press.

The author of Screaming in the End: Poems and Stories, Fuck You: A Fucking Poetry Chap, Shedding Dark Places (almost), One Hell of a Muse , as well as co-author of The Grind and Razorville.

A frequent contributor to Alien Buddha Press and Mad Swirl. His work has been featured in: A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Black Shamrock Magazine, Horror Sleaze Trash, Better Than Starbucks, Piker Press, Punk Noir Magazine, Synchronized Chaos, and Cult Culture magazine.