I’ve been shooting at stars all day in this Rapture in lazy floods hoping I strike a piece of you so it will fall in toy diamond, citrate frost, something I can chew on. Your braided dream lilies looped together with dowsing rods crafted by an alchemist in a deleted scene from a shelved noir. For this space ordained you, this panel graffiti in obsidian marker, the confessional alarm in your belly button, and your bitten lilypad psychophage waits for your heart’s Host to fall with flipper women hissing beneath spinning Roman columns, hungry as light bulbs dimming, their receivers ringing one after another
John Thomas Allen is a 38 year old poet who likes the novels of Pierre Jean Jouve, John Olson, and and Jaroslav Seifert. He hopes that there will be a poetry arcade somewhere, someday, and a real arcade, not one with wifi. He’s recently been in Synchronized Chaos, Dreams and Nightmares, and Veil: A Journal of Darker Musings, and in 2018 won the James Tate Prize for “Rolling In The Third Eye”, a collection of his poems.