Super Villain XXXVII

Now the oranges are
forgotten from picking. The junk
lot is a pet brothel,
and the aimless never miss.
Look
at the moon rising on the new.
It says that I am estranged
from myself. My muscles
are shaking like Californias. I have
to look at the dirt mound
a thousand times before I see
it. I've lost my sensitive maladies.
The desert is silent; the river speaks;
I listen to both.












Letter: Man Whose Body Is Not Exclusively His to Superhero

Dear Superhero,

If the path went straight:
Would you follow it?
If so, would this be following?
Would you choose it?
If you do not choose it, do you end up walking it by coincidence?
If so but you walk straight, would the path still be a path?

Sincerely,
The Man Whose Body Is Not Exclusively His












Ode to the Logic of And

I put my hands on my face to see me.            (Bill-broker)

The sky holds so much, and a cloud doesn’t drop all at once.            (Man at the Wheel)

I went home and took my shower.            (Mr. Mercury)

Put it in the plain.            (Gypsy Loretta)

There is a different sun for each place.            (Blind Boy)

I see a black train under a white steam stack.
I see a long black train under a white steam stack.
If I step upon that train, I can't ever come back.            (Isabella)

She suffered so much and never whimpered.            (Mr. Mercury)

Time used to train on by,
But now that you're gone it won’t budge at all.            (Bill-broker)

It is a thrilling thing to tread on stone.            (Gypsy Loretta)

I mourn for the day I'm about to start.            (Blind Boy)

Please, please I don't want to get on that train.
Ah, please I don't want to get on that train.
If I get on it, I swear I'll never be the same.            (Isabella)

A man at the bus stop is writing over his own words.
He shoved his face in his pocket.            (Man at the Wheel)

I had to adjust to live with it slowly.            (Mr. Mercury)

The night is heavy
as the collective weight of
all this rain,
which shows no sign of letting up.            (Blind Boy)











Geoffrey Babbitt earned his M.F.A in poetry from the University of Utah. His work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Colorado Review, Octopus Magazine (online), West Wind Review, and Confrontation. He currently lives and teaches in Salt Lake City.




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