BLACK NOISE by Robert Beveridge

“The things of this world are fluid, they/take our shape” –Keith Waldrop, “Legion’s Grammar”

 

claw tick:

unknown beast

hunted, devoured

in midnight ritual

 

sound

just felt

rumbles

under ears

 

heavy pumpkin

shakes

on frozen vine

 

clay bends, twists

 

last heat gives out

we vibrate to live

 

its breath a cold bellows

 

 

***

 

 

OUTSKIRTS OF TRENTON by Robert Beveridge

 

Surgery

won’t even come here

stitched streets

overrun with dogs

and gangs

 

on Calhoun

a little farther in

the punks stake

out their territory

tape decks blast

local hardcore

and amplified

vacuum cleaners

 

where black angels

with baseball bats

and tire irons

fear to tread

 

 

 

About the author: Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. He  celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of his first publication in November 2018, and has since published over a thousand poems. Recent/upcoming appearances in Cough Syrup, Penumbra, and Lowestoft Chronicle, among others.