q&a
Your chromosomes
look like chipped piano keys.
I much more prefer
the xylophone.
Every bar and irregular meter.
Hymns of flat affection.
Dressed. Undressed me
of my four-colored faith.
Tomorrow I’m told
it’s supposed to snow.
spirit drinker
I
had this
period where
I'd go to clubs
It was there
always
and eventually
It broke
into my hotel
waiting at
the
window
to the pool area
telling me
It was
three
in the morning
that
It was not
goodbye
It was not even
hello
Volksmarch
The claws fire back.
Hell bent kneel with soda
for purchase on lemongrass.
Microwave sales at Sears riot
to the point of tear gas. Usually
a passion has no destination in mind
just compulsion and spread,
red socket and bone caverns.
The old playgirl shakes a snake skin
wanting love, wanting to be heard
to be far away.
It was quite a dream.
Three Mile Island
In a nutshell, syndromes lurch
a certain irony
small children
the flow of emergency cooling
an industry argot melts down
clear to the other side of the world
night trading coal for oil
the aegis of people
status as the small wonder
power, measured by opinion polls
energy necessary to wean land
the drawing board
time is running out to adopt
rescinding attitude
on the heel of mucous
squall and hale
Boona Daroom is a salesman and mountaineer. He is the author of four chapbooks and a novella. He lives in Brooklyn.