Similes slobber like intestines from my gut.
There’s no profound zombie like me.
I have been eating poets.
The alpha zombie doesn’t even have a clue.
His look is blank
and he walks with a shat-pants shuffle.
The poet’s gone.
the sky tear blue.
Two dogs interfere with my beginning of a haiku.
The eyeballs roll
from my hands like berries.
The alpha zombie starts to growl at my wasting of food.
He’s totally clueless.
When I pull the pen from my skull to write,
I’m human again.
I tear at trees for bark.
I scrawl on them while I roam the park.
James Conant is a Cambridge artist who has recently added photography to his skills, which include clay sculpture, pen and ink, montages, and pencil art. He is always available for work and collaboration.