Andrew Lundwall (Wisconsin, USA): Four Poems


the el diablo outhouses
of the village
blast reggae tonight
as the silent man strangles
the sidewalk intoxicated


sophie’s hands
reload my shadow
rewind my window
stoned in the afterglow
of a blue leopard’s eyes
soggy like so many moons
as bourbon babies emerge
from dated floral curtains
of next door bakery
bubbling doughy
and across the street
groaning metallic
wasted apostolic
black out beneath
the yellow flowing
midnight robe of
a meth-addicted monk


my sister’s prophesies
usher in the gray rains
of coming circumcised autumn
in pornographic prayer
as the blood flower
of her boyfriend’s shadowy polaroid
sets fire to abandoned mattresses
of wilderness crashes a golf cart
into oblivion

lawn flamingos cringe


the blind hands
of august weary
of strangling stars
fall into the graffiti
of her moist lap