A selection of poems from John David Ebert's new collection, These Things We No Longer Are, including Descent of the Angel, Peter, Dead Men, Five Skulls, and The Angel of Death
He's a big barreled suave broad caster (he casts broads) who smokes a cigar, the phallus broadcasted on his exclusive speaker. His voice is pinched with a husky drawl, ever sure, and he declares whatever he wants and you appease. The Brute: Step right ...
"We are lost and strangers to this place, this mother of terrors and wonders."
There was a time once when poets Sitting on cracked marble urns Invoked the muses; Or when the angel whispered Into Matthew’s ear The tale of a man Who came to earth as a god....
"On rooftops and deserted roadways, she would, in times of chemical storms, spread her legs across the sky to take in the pieces...."
Surrender the Life • Terra • Second Skin
Fuselage • Perplexing order • Hesitation • Jurisdiction lies in zoology • Caliber
We believe culture is consciousness, and consciousness is world, and so to participate as a media platform, we see ourselves as agents of enactive culture-making. Social poetics.
The universe is crawling with unseen life: angels and djinn and spiritual guides. Like the excess in a stagnant pond, this abscess of the Absolute is obscenely corpulent in every nook and cranny, armpit and crotch of the Great Mother of dark energy and ...