Eddie Watkins

from Garbled Allures

Relaxed hog portionslean on a wirethe jump long goneacross the glaring landscapeincomplete faces torturedinto elbows tossvisceral balloonslost in the white bangof deafening transparency
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Logs bumpsexual fingersheave-ho the picklesand suspend operationson the moronic seascape
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Helmets measure the ceilingwith feathers and openthe next door neighbor's facebright things wriggle outtoting unripe pearsand wet jumper cables cakethe surroundings with feces
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Flat in theface with sandalsthe implosion oflungs hidden by dog furgrit spread on bagelsloosen junk in the marginsinhabited by your smilegets up and walks awaydripping feverishfingers into pancakes
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Pink niblets in a ringthe mouth of oxygenrotatingtroubling the foxsniffing navelsin the crunch of sandand electrified wire
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The rest buttonscrambles the cagethat covers the hilltopwith breastswe take a few steps backrats through strawsrender the glass inhabitablemining our headsfor digestible fibers
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The rest of the keynods at the coral hammerbedroom samples feelthe backward skull spotlit by plum sterlingfingers with lampshade eyesand stacks of mud
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Mumbling touchstonesof clabbered gutsstring glares on a pathstacked with barfto your stained faceyour nickelodeonof a fevered personalitythe sheriff grabsby the intestinesa peculiar mountaintopmashed potatoes sparkling hamslide toward heaven’sfading stack
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The flat line of my sighttosses signals to the cloudsflaming clumps and breezespile up to stagger methe air no longerasks me any questionsI just walk and look
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The flightnarrowed to a lineplucked at the marginsto go arounda little animallike a clump of bellsrandom investigative tunnelsaligned with the furof a severed armto convert the bellyto cup the ballswith a glorious tattooof minty folliclesand hiccupping spurts
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Fixed sounds tricklethrough the sandwhere oceans crashand drain the blackcup of the momentleaps into the wateryou turn with itto cover my headto insert division in my eyethough we knowit is a necessary blanketnow that the earthlinks with dirtand cows blamethe moon for milk
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Over the coverof manageable headsthe line up turns the cornerinto the ear of terrifying blinksan early revolveran upset bodyof glaring hideawaysopen bald releasersfeel for marblesof tattered climatesup into a pot that wobbleswinking happy pop-tartshanging on the wall
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Thrumming fingertipsdent the farthest treehard fumbling handymenpick up the tabletoward the broken tailpipeturning her totumbling insane inchworms
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Tilted rental propertiescorrode the pilllackadaisical jerkspencil in the strangulationhandshake gripping handshakethrough the copiedmoon in a stinky trashcan
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Air bounces on the streeterases windows with lightreconfigurations of the reptilethe open toolthat cranks off lidsartificial lowlifesalong the wallpersuading customersthat previous couplesstopped and staredand operated linked beardsby plumblineindependent of gas
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The tallest yeast collarsnags on a linetotal shedding of an armthe hero grabsat limbs and blinksokay let's dovetail into grungelet's add upthe diamond-shaped eyesand stand our groundwith fitful feversnobody underlinesthe clearest spitballnobody blinksthen barks then cushionsonly openhearted sealsprey on toddlersthat cough up windfallsof littered nestsas if the highest peakhas fractured all our eyes


I am a hardworking family man living in Philadelphia, PA with my wife and daughter and other animals. The functioning member of society mask I wear allows me to indulge in considerable inner freedom. I have been in the poetry game for a long time, but have only published sporadically.-Eddie Watkins