by Mark Bibbins, Editor
Hoover Dam understands
if you have to go to the bathroom.
If you tempt me with your smile,
I will encase you in gelatin.
I love you porkchop, you say to your porkchop.
I love you porkchop, you say to your doom.
You cast seed onto the field
and shape a soft maze.
The penguins’ speed is such that they shoot up
ten feet or more then plop down onto the ice.
Fifty million soup labels will buy them a basketball.
The ocean with three fish left.
We all sleep alone, says Cher.
The last box of low-salt Triscuits. Half full.
Jason Zuzga’s debut poetry collection, Heat Wake (Saturnalia Books), has just been published.
You will find more poems here. You may contact the editor at firstname.lastname@example.org.