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Saturday, 29 September 2012

John W. Sexton

High Heaven

subterranean oceans ...
Martian sea-folk
followed the soak indoors

the universe
our engine

sheen of moonlight
on her hair ...
distances collapse

sedge skirts the menhir
under rising Venus ...
the mind contains space

Coyote swaps the moon
for a turd ... the sky stinks
to high heaven

beneath the floor
the mouth-mouse
... our house floats on Sheol 

The Negative Fog

flash-frozen mermaids …
prices slashed
in the suffermarket aisles

hangar 666
the hearts idling
in a billion, billion flies

the hedge begets …
of sparrow angels

the here of there …
distance passes
through the spaceleech

‘twould twist your tongue
three micecubes chill
old Vlad’s vodka

electric bayou …
the mist guitar
of Johnny C. Through

scales of light the lamps
of the deep … by the pinch
of her tail he follows

frozen match-flames …
in the negative fog our
thoughts become brittle

Finite Frontier

space just
a puzzle-box
now it opens up

cools to pumice ... a pilot too abstract
to comprehend

cherry blossom
shatters the heart ... no astral ribbons
tether us

cup and ring marks ...
stone engine ready

crew of
the modified protozoa ...
blood-space the finite frontier

slimy sapiens ...
from their glass vialships
the vladpoles hither

wyverns of hollow Mercury ...
a pea-sized sun
gives never-night

John W. Sexton is the author of four previous poetry collections, the most recent being Vortex (Doghouse, 2005) and Petit Mal (Revival Press, 2009). His fifth collection, The Offspring of the Moon, is due from Salmon Poetry in spring 2013. Under the ironic pseudonym of Sex W. Johnston he has recorded an album with legendary Stranglers frontman, Hugh Cornwell, entitled Sons Of Shiva, which has been released on Track Records. In 2007 he was awarded a Patrick and Katherine Kavanagh Fellowship in Poetry.

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