This poem is taken from PN Review 244, Volume 45 Number 2, November - December 2018.
The Gates of Hell & other poems
The Psychic Capital of the World
Cassadega, Florida
Summer. A toad died in a plastic habitat,
sparrow nestlings in the grill fledged,
the Don Juan rose’s ups and downs
were managed with a spritz of sulfur at
intervals, the St Augustine was edged;
and at the crossroads of the town
there was almost nothing to trumpet
the psychic capital of the world, albeit
a unified aesthetic seemed to have bled
from a great purple pen, whose stet
could be read in the sign-up sheet
and hand-crafted amethyst death’s head.
The dead had gone abroad while
vegetation marched on the veranda.
We imagined that they had surpassed,
...
Summer. A toad died in a plastic habitat,
sparrow nestlings in the grill fledged,
the Don Juan rose’s ups and downs
were managed with a spritz of sulfur at
intervals, the St Augustine was edged;
and at the crossroads of the town
there was almost nothing to trumpet
the psychic capital of the world, albeit
a unified aesthetic seemed to have bled
from a great purple pen, whose stet
could be read in the sign-up sheet
and hand-crafted amethyst death’s head.
The dead had gone abroad while
vegetation marched on the veranda.
We imagined that they had surpassed,
...
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