Poem by Robert Beveridge

 

When Your Inner Child Chainsmokes
post-T. H. Cornell

I fall
at your feet
even after
these weeks
these months
these ages
and beg you
to kiss my neck
run your fingers
over my chest
stroke my hair
sometimes I hope
it’s not me talking
at times like this
but the little boy
you hardened
when you left me
and sometimes I hope
you’ll say yes

 

Robert Beveridge
makes noise and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Pulsar, Tessellate, and Scarlet Leaf Review, among others.

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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