OWEN PAUL EDWARDS

ZAPATAR

A small world

Must have looked on his own past with contempt

In the island of his solitude

He lived like a

Wearisome mediocrity washed up around him

He tested every possible effect of chiaroscuro

Kissed their hands realizing he never knew happiness

Looking for the next escape

A mere executant

Employee in the pay

Labored for years at this soul-killing task

Two things are worth living for

Hunting and Chocolate

Doing violence to his own genius

Free at last when the day comes

BEAR LAKE

Best way to die

is go in the woods

and die.

It’s nice to lay down

and not be found.

I’ll be where the sky is

purple, the world and trees

and hills are frozen.

A woodpecker crashed in.

The wind is shaking

grass like a pocket.

Aspen, sing your song.

Give me a hill to sled down.

Make my brain a pile of dirt.

I’ll remember your

mom in the water.

Cotton pieces showing.

People will forget me

between jobs and dinners

but I’ll be here. Yes I will.

NEVER EVER

It's not easy carrying that leprous knot

Things get all bright like

Passionate, gleeful mercury balls

Here's my favorite player

He's always there for me

You were the real deal

Craved excellence and died

You are disappointed

I will make efforts to correct this

You remain disappointed

You are indignant

Doing things properly is impossible

I neither sleep nor stay awake

Once I had a golden mohawk

All American

Number one

Used to wear headbands

Someone's walking around in my underwear

Put your pecker away

Show's over

OWEN PAUL EDWARDS is from Southern Maryland. He is an editor at BRUISER. See his writing in HAD, the Rose Books Reader, and Spectra Poets.