Life’s [Lack of] Revision
I close my eyes and wish my life
away. I open them to
find I have grown
white and tired as expected, but never gathered
by wind, whisked away in attempted regeneration.
I am repulsive
weed, waiting for maintenance
blade to make me modern
Marie Antoinette.
Midnight Butterfly
I bloom at stroke 12 in shapes
of tears and torture.
Twisting through hours
human eyes should never see.
Me,
I breathe their suffocating
tick.
Tock, the
language
of the forgotten, follows my lips’
lead. Under
rainbow roads, into the deep
er brush. The moon‘s
current nightmaring across the sky.
The Road to Conversation Road
should be two sided,
though often is dominated
by the side that believes
it is right.
gets bumpy, is often
convoluted, disrupted
by irrelevant tangents.
is an uphill journey, where
minds and tires spin in place,
get stuck
in redundancies thicker
than mud.
is of the greatest intrinsic value
though, sadly, often ends
without solidified
point.
A.J. Huffman has published eleven solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses. Her new poetry collection, Another Blood Jet, is now available from Eldritch Press. She has two more poetry collections forthcoming: A Few Bullets Short of Home, from mgv2>publishing and Degeneration, from Pink. Girl. Ink. She is a multiple Pushcart Prize nominee, and has published over 2100 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, and Kritya. She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press. www.kindofahurricanepress.com
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