Patrick Samuel
since I don’t believe when I pray
where voiceover loses root
half the house the ground gets
unspooling innards from seeds
too much like a sidewalk
thought dormant
shaman please the tribal weed
the little sink holes
shadow bats underfoot
shriek broken smoke pipes
resin hisses siamese
horror from a cartoon
the other childhoods outflash
do not
chant the din crystals make
whiskery in cumshot
I am no longer territory
rootstalk helling it’s hair
for the god-talker crowns
crop heads
circulate my binge-
state
injures
a toga soiling
down
my spine
is a mountain
a fist so into itself
through irritant
principles of
try is platform
is worry
a slippery
muscle
in spit
vernacular opening
such that beneath
flux of fag shoots
my body
no longer
is son territory
prediction
kept politic
accurate
is stand-off
at a party once I stocked up on dildos then hugged everyone goodbye
on the roof back home
there’s tar
and nothing human
besides the tumbled
quartz trying as much to love
its body this weekend
like a flower how the bugs come
broke down with heat and sugar
bubbling fruit
finger hot uranium retro
glass, little sandwiches
without crust
Patrick Samuel lives in Chicago where he earned his MFA from Columbia College. His most recent work appears in NOO Journal, Vinyl, Deluge, and Sporklet.