Three Poems / by Spenser Smith


I inhaled
a sheet
of bubble wrap
my stomach popped
like text messages
I aimed my nose
over cut-glass
and captured
plastic dioxide fizz
called it
sugar free soda






When you escape a scientology treatment center
and start smoking bath salts every day
you don’t blame L. Ron Hubbard
you become him

Cult-master of atoms
my chemistry melted
into nothingness







We roast marshmallows
on pencil crayon skewers
over floor registers


We roast our brains
on chalky synthetics
over burnt tinfoil


We roast coffee beans
on a cloudless Tuesday
(are we) over what happened






Spenser Smith is a poet, photographer, and journalist studying Creative Writing and Journalism toward a BA at Vancouver Island University. He is a poetry editor for Portal, a contributor to The Navigator and Clip Through, and his work has appeared in text Litmag and SKY Magazine.