301 Moved Permanently

301 Moved Permanently


Escape From Wreck City

Illustrated by Ryan Heshka.

Illustrated by Ryan Heshka.

The things you mumbled

at your tattooist’s


cold apartment

had little consequence.


You said the honour

of public greatness


is to be sweetly veiled

in pigeon droppings.


Having recently discovered

Sherry you’ve forgotten


most of the last month.

Still, I’m enchanted


with how you let

the word Dubrovnik


roll around your mouth

like some forgotten


tonic. You sprawled out

in the witchgrass


like a wounded insomniac

and this prism you insist


I window wash

has a crooked bullseye


slumped around a gross



of what it really means

to act like evil twins.


There is only one true

vandal; let your eyes


orbit around the room.

You’re mumbling again;


it sounds like you’re saying

I’m fond of widows.


We’re moving inappropriately

through Amontillado,


lightly headed for a mile

wide in-limbo.


Do you ever want to poke

around in the sticky


ink of something more

intimate? Less rhetorical?


I’m an old car in mint

condition. You’re marooned


in an equinox as the melon

queen of tattoo parlors.




From subTerrain #68 (Pulp Fiction)

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