Five Poems
Austin Miles
land into capital
tungsten +
the soap
the soap
+ progress thru levels: fine green
the myriad lawns
the fine automobiles
i love the houses when they are cash +
i look @ them like i look @
the horizon
expropriated cell machine
riverine stranger; smoothest rocks
where is it going
that rock
when i skip it it
splashes my gut
my arms are, basically, weeds
my eyes are a sort of machine
mundane worlds in need
tranced out on leather smell
am like what when faced w it
the makeshift fires
the varnished decks
can’t choose between hamburger + hot dog
forget mental stuff
u don’t kno
yr creeping aches yr leering glances
on a lost home yr mind
a drowning
why
trouble urself w representations
still water
it ripples blinks irregular
here is a place
here is a place
good, + u can
semiotic work
the boat floated—
the boat floated
in it, the turtle kids
red + wet
stuck in a metaphor
they’d laugh
Austin Miles lives in Columbus, OH. He has poems published in HUMAN/KIND, Dream Pop, the tiny, and elsewhere.