Brandon Downing, p.1


Eh…come in.
Andrew’s been waiting for me
But received a pugilistic child
Way up in the tree

A silent, archer vibrator

And David Niven is red.
In a starry sequence on a tongue.
Of blue positioned with starry light.
Surrounding me with the force of my eyelid

A streaked Roger, a curved Raymond,
A German in a Germanic font, meaning dress.
Nobody fears, and cubes of titles, really high,
Glowing white, come out of an extravagantly
          lit home.


This is the story of Pepper Cohn, and
Her two worlds both who feel for the problems
Of some one: persons we know and the others we will,
Sandy-haired joggers in foggy lanes,
And in another reader what’s your name?

My name is Dying Airman. I often
Going along enamel sand / hating
What the next world was to be like:
Eerie freaks situated on a land-bridge,
The brothers with metallic fangs,
Like Peter and June, cloven drink-darlings,
Who made many sounds in the oven

Now they face the ruddy choice