Poetry
John Heckman
Another Class of PoorAre you trying to make a fashion statement, man? Yeah, I wear the ass torn out of my jeans for style. Fuck you man, I was serious you look like one of those upper east side rich motherfuckers that wanna look fly. No man, fuck you my style is grad student poor buy my threads well worn. Whatchoo studying, man? Anthropology. Of Middle Managers and Oyster ToadsI learned to avoid the slippery flesh, careful to avoid being stabbed or pricked. They have small baby teeth and a wide opening with barbs atop their heads their soft fat bellies slimy and when they rise too fast from the bottom where they feed, their guts come out their mouths and they choke. Slack tide finds them engorged on rotted meat peeler crabs, a steady diet of the mundane just a throw back, almost prehistoric. . John Heckman lives in Williamsburg VA is married, no yard apes, and has two dogs. He works full time in Physics. He's a wannabe metal arts artist, dabbles in watercolors, and carves weird psychedelic wooden animals. He has poems published and pending publication in: Samsara, Supralurid, La Petite Zine, Purr, Poetry Magazine, The Hold, NYCPoetry, and Bloodjet. |