ROB KEMPTON

fuck caucus

i'm a couple
red bulls, cutaneous osprey
this secret eye dance

if i struggle with addiction, it's because
i'm a big gulp of 99 cents, a night spore

lost in secret
massage therapies, big hands of
desperation proselytizing pussy lips

o to be the towel
on the forest floor, stomped out
by missionaries, dried out
land of disbelief

i make my way in meditation
playlists, pious headrests
i tell my mom, i am everything
you wanted to be

i want to grow a video jungle-
fungal .gif network, the OF canopy,
and then burn it all down as an act of self
preservation

i have my bowl of oats
semi expired
milk, they demand a jizz tribute
dismal advance towards the hudson

what's missing? i'll
call her back

Rob Kempton is a poet and photographer currently living in Glasgow, Scotland. His poetry is featured in Dirty Mag, Petit Mort, Bruiser Mag, wildscape lit, Brooklyn Review, and elsewhere. His photography is featured in his parents' hallway.