H.A.G.S.

Sun in the eye
bends the periphery into Schrodingerís cat;

other minor difficulties you canít make out
with.
 
The insights tent-pegged into the skull

flag-gun like billboard,

suggest

more schizophrenically:

36 oz for $1.99.

You try to interfaith with this,
but itís hard

when all your decisions are poorly
punctuated

freight trains in heat,

summer plus boys,

canít solve for x in the shape of suicide door kits.

Your mood goes right
through you like baby food.

Thought-travel like a tan line;
 
a large-print bible for a brain cell.

The same

pugilist under Apolloís persistent reach
punching holes in the logic
 
through which to view the sun more directly;
to at least see and say oh, itís a dead cat.



________________________________________

Jim Redmond has lived in Michigan for most of his life, but he currently calls Austin, TX home. He writes a monthly blog series about literary community for Drunken Boat. Some of his poems have been recently published or are forthcoming in Columbia Poetry Review, Redivider, PANK, Word Riot, Juked and RHINO, among others. His chapbook, Shirts or Skins, was published as an insert in Heavy Feather Review 3.2.