i eat people who hate this song

morning is the scars of dew

it’s snowing i’m ready for none of it

keep putting oil in my beard

probably a poison kiss poisoned me

my name means inventor of christianity

was up late watching keanu murder

then rolled over, slept restless

light leaks into room i toss & turn

trying to steal more empty hours

as i approach the middle of life

i remain embraced by failure

constant companion whose presence

is all the more stark given that

everyone had expected such

great success from me

they were fucking fools

i fantasize about fantastic wealth

& being surrounded by perfect bodies

is what makes me broken

& unready to accept futurebreakings

life is just piss that comes out

it’s a pleasant sound

birds, screaming in the snow

trembling, forgetting why they’re they’re


paul hanson clark is a poet and multi-disciplinary artist living in nebraska.

Photograph from performance by Leif Holmstrand.