Poetry from John Thomas Allen

     Moon Braille on The Broken Museum Roadside Piece
    

                 Hands of crippled starfish and space wheat, 

                 hands of spinstressed starfish

                The lego windmill spins in morphia stars

                gold occult gears, purple noir.
                                          
                The somnolent sweatsocks, time dilation

                 and alloy eyes green leper moons.

            This misshapen Exhibit road sign with crooked arms,
 
                bark arms wittled by the spun fluxes 

                 cinder eyes of willow moons....
  
                 gold occult gears, purple halo
         
                 of colloidal cell slime in the bending 

                 scimitar sickle moons 

                for miles-- notes of Creeping Muzak,

                 (organ grinder's b-flat) 

        Crippled Starfish, hands of wet wheat space meat

                 (three--2--in DS)
 
          the star spun in gold straw, the gold foil crochet
                                       
          darned by the silk divan's royal hypnotist 

        and dilatory tar fudge.

        Hands of crippled starfish, hands of space wheat. 

John Thomas Allen is a 38 year old poet who loves metered and unmetered, experimental and “traditional” poetry. ┬áHe would like to attend a psychosocial club in which William Hope Hodgson and H.P. Lovecraft were read to the Velvet Underground’s first album while artist Banks Violette constructed one of his somethings.