POEMS: Joe Hogle


A Simulation

Please don’t be clever
we are about to begin

you enter an old funeral house
there are no ushers
there are no workers
there is no one at the reception

here you eat your parents
it will be ok
don’t be afraid

next find yourself in a nest
with giant worms writhing slick, earthy
wrapped around chirping birds
don’t worry!
This is just the libido

look at the creature!
Now the mirror.
we have sewn its head
to yours

this is just an experiment
we synthesized a lot of books for this
don’t be dismissive, please

your tongue feels hot
your feet are sore
they start to burn
in the distance you see
a stake on the mountain
no one is tied to it yet

now look at your millipede limbs
try them out
think about belonging
think about belonging

now we have placed you in the vacuum
be calm
you can breathe
before you are the stars
and the cat’s eye nebula
you are a titan
you can see the stars have depth
they are bright lamps along a road

we’ve ended the simulation
you did well ☺
the eyelid prayer

im roleplaying my ineptitude is a jar and let me
Shoot Rhetoric Pellets
in unintelligible gross horror.

every person on intercom
Same old song
Just a million polygons

About 500 dogs on npr keep talking
about master-slave relation of inanimate object
Like the wind
we are taking pictures
and all the science behind the woods
and hold me and!

Ah the ball, why am I a last breath, writ with subversive elements is it science???

Concept: a staircase nude
imagined hair connected,
the ruin
Like a prototype
and stabbing into a gruntin’ man
raise your!

The stars!
limber your front door for neurosis
i have blood on mars
im trapped in sin and smaller
the world runs from the mountain

who enter here* *Yahoo!!!!!!!!!!!*
some days u need to mourn. take me.
For the dirt run, the garden.

Watching a prototype and weeping.
they wish to tune into the only time zone.
strap in, pull down harder.
We are there are crying out there so bad
and earth having to tell your passions sleepy.
Life feels.

You awake with mammalian blood…the tornado watch thunderstorm:
Bizarre illustrations from my bathroom habits, horrible sense of shitty time juice
dispensing agreement coins
Also a gruntin’ man
lives in a horrible hand injury

this season’s crop of skin angels
for example the wind.
Truth is 1
and stabbing into the nightmare

Where the garden is. 1 less earth. in place now
For biting thing. i should be violently destroyed…with relish…and eyelids…


Joe Hogle lives in Pittsburgh, PA. He is also known as Poopsmithey.

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