Poetry from Alex S. Johnson

Green Engines 

Where data rings around the poisoned
fruit coiled like the

Original sin bacillus but we're not quite
dreaded out 

Yet, foiled the plans of egomaniac
gods with blackened

Wings flapping like a cyborg fan-machine-man
over the 

Tweaked and roiling
abyss of

Scissors, there remains
a system of drillbit girls with heads like

Hammerhead sharks wearing
Polynesian skirts around the issue of 

Unholy orders, fringed, frayed, stripped
Boredom town 

Cross-hatchings in an 
addled adult 

Comic type
Stripped to 

Ill 

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