Mitchell Garrard- Three Poems

Buzzed

The moon smelled like dynamite,

but it glowed like naked mornings.

I puked stardust in the alley—

then began to stagger.

I dragged my jaw to the crosswalk,

spotted Corey,

twisted my mouth into smalltalk.

He thinks I'm stupid,

but I think I'm dumber.

My lips melted shut by the moon's hot rays—

impenetrable, I muffled,

"these nights weren’t meant to be days."

Fireworks

When night falls

I shoot rockets

to recreate evenings

like scattered shells

across bathrooms floors

and avoid

solitude

by whispering evil

to melting crucibles

in tandem with the screams

of scared men

who gave life

and soil

and copper

by not hearing

the dull, thoughtless words

of old skeletons

with golden frames

that are too at ease

and self-serving

to steal

from you.

Calypso in a Petting Zoo

I’m falling asleep at the wheel now,

a full tank of blood,

oil leaking from my veins.

I watched a dog graffiti the alley of a cat shelter.

He was like an ice sculpture

rowning in the sun for hours.

At the supermarket, a wolf

wore striped trousers

and bit into a can lentils—he dieted

his way into the industry.

His half-bother was a lamb

with half-baked solutions

to loss prevention

in the used mattress market.

Outside the gas-station,

a dragon blew smoke rings

and giggled while reading pornography.

His insomnia drove him into publishing

adult magazines, but he held no animosity

to competing companies;

his product was superior

and he could breathe fire.

Bio: Mitchell Garrard is from Seattle, WA. His work has appeared in "experiential-experimental-literature" and is forthcoming in "Futures Trading" and "Camel Saloon."