joseph gant, three poems

astro phlebotomy

we’ve bled the present from forever
and fed like whorish vampires

without punishments of chains
around us.

messiahs handcuffed to their posts–
bed springs of eternity, temporary flesh,

seeds of momentary reason
planted with an absent mind

for harvest of the vile.


pushing zeros
and ones
through the veins
of god
like fentanyl
dreams and
the dope show.
we break
’round the
spires, reduced
as sum,
compiling cold


there were casualties
of bullets fired,
spent, smoking and the
hollow pings against the wood–
popcorn seeds and
useless things;
stray victims of intended slaughter
pierced by every last and single one of us.

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