No Target. Still Shootin’. Poem by R.J. Bevans
No Target. Still Shootin’.
A something snapped in my efferent neck sunaptein.
My heady, blood-lubbin’ sparks,
Up-in the marked vein on the jugular left,
Hurtme a half-hand down my vertical throat.
This current that charged then charged!
The isolated, instant “ow! ”
Nervous potential-passed;
Realized without my permission. Not okay.
Not yes-painful
But irksome, zee-literal, potent jerk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 2:53:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
