New Poems

The time in between books seems so long at first, but it goes by quickly. Here are some poems I wrote this week. They’re not the same style as what will be in my next collection, but I think it will be cool to read these now, and then again after finishing the journey that is my next release, titled “That Which Gets in the Way”. These are a lot closer in style to the last section of that book. Enjoy!

manners

she leaves the door from another dimension
where there was water everywhere
the only light came from her telephone
and walls are made of fingers
she walks into the bar where i’ve been lost for a while now, and the three of us spill our drinks on her.

she’s cold and gets someone to
eat the ice off the floor, then to tell us to have a good night
but i’m lost
now i’m having a good night with my friends
we’ve having a good night being carried by our belts
tossed into a wooden threshold
through it
into public
my teeth land on the curb
my friends,
we’re not lost any more
our drinks are unspilled

she walks back into the other dimension
wanting the walls to reach back into her pussy
looking for the rest
of the ice cubes

20 percent

flat gray skin where her mouth should be
flaps of skin, her ears folded in towards her face
a bent finger, the only one left on her hand
points to the booth you just left
then to the door you’re walking towards
the lights flicker
someone says something about an upside down boat
in the middle of the desert
the bitch grins

“are you taking off?”

jungle high

the men sat in the jungle
shirts open, tattered spirits, fucked
one put his shotgun in another’s face
taking him out of the jungle
blowing him into his house
where bop honked out of the record player

the man with the shotgun
whipped it into another’s face
taking him out of the jungle
clouding his vision
when it clears, he’s at prom
drinking in the bathroom with his girl

the man hands the shotgun to the only other one left
opens his mouth wide and
sucks in the fire
blinks and he’s on his mother’s farm
dad’s dead, so he’s the man of the house
he just wants to dig
and plow
and fuck the chick down the street

Kult-aid

we were driving my jeep in the desert
up and down dunes, between scraping juniper branches
squeezed a tight corner with a drop off
looked down to the upside down boat at the bottom
covered in red dirt and a torn gray tarp
letting go of the squeeze, coming around the bent trail
there’s a circle of weirdos lying down
some of them were still
some trying to get off the ground
at least two of them were a green kind of dead

we pulled to the side and radioed for help
there was no answer but the groans of one of the men
poison
he said
they’d all taken poison, even the young ones
my wife cried
my friend and i watched their souls
sink into another dimension
even the young ones

pretend

the universe is pretending to be where we live
it’s got a mask and a driver’s cap on
a bow tie

it looks like someone you’d like to take out
fall asleep next to
and fuck just before morning

but it’s a sham
it isn’t anything like what it tells us
what you see on the news

it’s drunk
and you’re lookin good
and it’ll do anything to get in your life

Author: A. M. Langston

Poet and Novelist

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