The leaves scuttle, are singed
and the meat is pink if you
Stab it just a bit
it oozes blood
Like your tender
astronomy
A side of sidereal, cosmicomic
Laughter bursts from the veins, the
green tracery of being netted in a colossal shipwreck of forms
Desire gives way to a blossom of death to time
Where opiate pallor dabs at your cheeks
And you reach for an cigarette jammed
Smartly in its FDR cylinder, the Princess of Pirate Girls with an eyepatch and a hip flask of
Rum-drummer tattoos, watercolors of
rose and leviathan sinking slowly beneath the waves of
The sun.
Alex S. Johnson was dubbed "The Baudelaire of our time" by John Shirley, screenwriter with David J. Schow of the 1994 cult classic horror film The Crow starring Brandon Lee in his final performance, and has been trying to live up to that beautiful comparison ever since. He lives in Carmichael, California with his family.
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