Issue 32: Eddie Heaton

irrational darkening dream status

a sinistere mouths

and my glass eye rolls

left arm draped

in a short space

stake gibbet and cross

and repent

base pernicious

and degrading

fire and sword

from lip to ear

crystallised

into a creed

prenatal memory

cognition

black fire town

once there was

a red hot poker

now there’s only

central heating

shadow travellers

offend

a sort of rising

for a few

like-minded friends

and what is left

is postmarked quarantine

daisy gristle welts

green gnomes here lie

and their chunks

anastasia was disposed of

lady chatterley's

a broken tuba now

her topical mouth

is a gift shop

but it’s closed

whose contraption

am i strapped upon

the master-key

is in their hands

and i believe

they watch my dreams

through apertures extending into space

electronic static releases

step up then feigning empathy and any other

stance that gets you sentiment-scented while

some idea of normal lights your path put

away the chairs and the sloganising and start

scraping off the scabs like ice from me old

cortina with a sexy stroking motion target

practice starts at tea time once prayers is over

and you can wear your clan insignia to church

but don’t blame me for the dirty looks push

on through the doors of the paradox while i

quietly clench and glean a little something

for the once and future addict to consume

well bless my soul in a late model four-door

pontiac with machine washed seat covers

affording considerable space and comfort

to the discerning passenger the state has a

useful tool in its electronic voice contraption

so long as it still has buttons left to press

with every new breath dream essence takes

this over swiftly with sub-liminal reborn

heart now you yes you with your pearly-gated

imagery jammed shut to surround essential

darkness freshly ripened and yet still in

thrall to the same old patriarchal trickery

as you watch your female friendly porn

all is lost all is contradiction past its echo

more alive but not for long with one last

burst of consciousness and who’s to say

there’s sod all else or light or not for

feeling is a degenerative form that squats

amongst its consequences   

Eddie Heaton studied innovative and experimental poetry under the tutelage of post-modern poet and educator Keith Jebb, achieving a first-class honours degree. He also won the 2021 Carcanet Award for Creative Writing. His work has been extensively published in a number of prestigious literary journals.

Copyright © 2024 by Eddie Heaton, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author