Ann Cotten

(1982 / Ames, Iowa)


Rise up, swell illusions, cutoff cables,
tragic flowers, uneven equals. Oh you kiss,
you smouldering blooming kiss of bad
craftsmanship, and oh you human eyes.
You staring stars, return to kiss.
You deep abyss, return to kiss.
And underneath, the universe is blown.
Is cut! Techn - unmastered love,
stopping for money. Little joys, Techn!
Hard feelings, psycho coverage for love -
O Fiberglass, hard mantle of love -
forbidden love -Techn!
Comb your hair with molding scrap,
my dove, feed your line into your sprue.
Half dead, paint some cute eyelashes on it,
paint them happy, now you can.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 25, 2018

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