I am Mayakovsky in resonating firmament seeking a destiny of my beginning, the initial stirrings of rebirth in a country not mine now. Strange to see the fast-food dominions in a place where people devour ground beef in endless hunger. The way many fervent faithful lap up the pharmaceutical host onto their obedient tongues? The way some sing chants of ages while we, in deafness, don't hear false organ keys striking down as the player swoons above us, with rectitude, his tongue & lips dry as angels die on love's battlefield.
About the Poet:
Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, where he’s been active for years as writer, artist, and editor of the lit-zine ART:MAG. He has recent poetry in IMPSPIRED, TAJ MAHAL REVIEW, LOTHLORIEN POETRY JOURNAL, BLUEPEPPER, and elsewhere. His latest poetry books are Go to the Pain Lovers (Duck Lake Books) and The Underground Movie Poems (Horror Sleaze Trash).