By: Jake Bailey
voice of God
drifts sideways, left
I’m left here, here
is a hovel of stone
alone, then bark, then
bite, night is nexus
mind flexes in flame
Freon pumping sound
in silence, silence
in the well
a cell owns you as much
as you
own it, the pit
in my teeth
underneath here, right
here, strip
down the fire, expire
only once
the brain is just
a silver tongue
with no head, dead
inside
we’re inside
come and see
we’re inside
please
let us leave
Jake Bailey is a schiZotypal experientialist and host of Poetry and Pot. He has published or forthcoming work in Abstract Magazine, The American Journal of Poetry, Constellations, Diode Poetry Journal, Frontier Poetry, Guesthouse, Mid-American Review, Palette Poetry, PANK Magazine, Passages North, Storm Cellar, TAB: The Journal of Poetry & Poetics, Tar River Poetry, and elsewhere. Jake received his MA from Northwest Missouri State University and his MFA from Antioch University, Los Angeles. He is a former editor for Lunch Ticket, current reader for Grist: A Journal of the Literary Arts, and lives in Illinois with his wife and their three dogs. You can find him on Twitter and Instagram (@SaintJakeowitz) and at saintjakeowitz.xyz.
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