Poem by Jon Berger


Neon Tattoo

The glow that
Fills the tubes.
Ions of culture
Instincts so fast
They can’t be consumed.
Question the
That you pinky-out
Mondo monkeys
With hybrid car
Evolve from.

my punk-red neck
Let’s me do
How I should
What doesn’t
Kill me

Black mask cold

The red light is
In go mode

Destroying the sun
With a BB gun

Like a mosh
Pit love
Dying last stands
Turned music
Streams of
Street kids
Filling out
To punch
Holes in walls.

You can look if you can see
best in the whatever place
that can’t be seen well in.
I don’t wear blood like a necklace
But still
see through the lens
of where the silhouette needle
has been.

It’s all in those dots in my eyes.


Artwork © Alex Duensing

Artwork © Alex Duensing


Jon Berger lives and writes in Saginaw, Michigan, where he works as a library clerk. His work has recently appeared in Five 2 One Magazine and is forthcoming in Jellyfish Review and The Bitchin’ Kitsch.

Alex Duensing. Graduate of William Paterson and Columbia? Yes. Ran for St. Petersburg, FL City Council? Yes. Won? No. Stopped Mayan Apocalypse on rooftop with performance art? Yup. Strange but nice fellow? Clearly. Protégé of Arakawa+Gins, masters of the architectural body? Ongoing even after the supposed end. Able to create mechanical engines that run completely on the energy a person creates while appreciating a painting? On delightful rare occasions.


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