A POEM by CLEM FLOWERS

PREACHING TO THE QUAINT PACE OF THE GHOST OF FROSTBITE SUNSHINE

Another kink in the chain of old mercantile & junk bond traders all pushing exile & the bliss it might bring about for the few, the hopeful, the affluent dry gulch of life

comes to separate the noxious from the obnoxious at leave to rest to levitate above the dead rivers

making hollers & drones of death into a low, miserable hymn--

Torment requisite for sainthood is too much for too many to understandably bear

& yet

the canary at the cannery still sings so the swing shift knows it'll all be all right

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Clem Flowers (they/ them) is a poet, soft-spoken southern transplant, low rent aesthete, & dramatic tenor living in a mountain’s shadow in their Home of Truth, Utah. Publication credits include: Olney Magazine, Blue River Review, The Madrigal, Pink Plastic HouseJournal, Bullshit, Corporeal, Holyflea, Anti-Heroin Chic, & Warning Lines. Author of chapbooks 'STOKED & THRASHING' (Alien Buddha Press) & 'TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS' (Bullshit). Nb, bi, and queer as the day is long, living in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. Found on Twitter: @clem_flowers.