Benny Biesek

Not Flynt At All

Her face was far too rouge.
There was a fuselage close by. I hear
That they churn up shit close by,

Which leads to the neighborhood
Smelling like it does. What does it
Do for me? Aside from nothing,

Not much. I guess I could repeat
Myself: take a sledge to a Toyota’s
Abdomen. I am far too proud

To beg. Shit, bruh: been to Venice
Before it succumbed. Her
Face was far too rouge—diseased,

Frankly. Honestly, though, with
The shit they churn up close by?
I am getting a head of myself made

Courtesy of someone darling. When
The crows fly over, brothers listen.

poet sang, drunk

the ocean is out there.
we are swimming in it.
you have bills to pay.
i have bills to pay.

let us burn the bills.
let them chain us down.
a riot to be heard,
             no doubt.
a train runs, under-ground.

the ocean has bills, too.
it burns them faster, though.
it has no chained parts.
it’s a riot, for sure.

i doubt no train will
             come for me.
if it does, then i
will run away.
i cannot find the ways to end the day.

Benny Biesek has contributed to Dead Snakes, Kernel Critic, Mirrors Magazine, and Sick Of The Radio. He perseveres with the Six Nines Haiku Project while assisting with curating readings at the Poetry Church in San Luis Obispo, California.