Kevin Heaton
A CHALK DRAWING BEFORE DYING
Ariel, breathless half-angel, transient
& opaque—amber & suspended; pensive
in the viscous light of a gilded moon.
symmetrical & aqueous; tinctures
of seascape & pastel twilight fleeting
through the prism of Leonardo’s eye.
her salt: the wither on my finger tips.
* * *
PATA'S DEMENTIA
My mind is like an orphaned floater with an ad hoc
discharge:
A malodorous outhouse digest sombering a pastoral
setting alongside flamed out potsherds, bloated spring
peas, and spent tobacco wads.
A feckless, tagged out ain’t mustered to a flustered
peckerwood. I’m up to my gall bladder scar in pee
hard apnea and Uncle Grandpa reruns.
AWOL, in an enchanted forest of pileated
sieve-trees—caning my way back to the cradle.
Kevin Heaton is originally from Kansas and Oklahoma, and now lives and writes in South Carolina.
His work has appeared in a number of publications including: Guernica, Raleigh Review, Beloit Poetry Journal,
Vinyl Poetry, The Adroit Journal and The Monarch Review. He is a Best of the Net, Best New
Poets, and three-time Pushcart Prize nominee.
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