What Comes After The End

The first sentence lets you know your life is a toaster oven. The fifth floor fortune cookie’s heart-by-way-of-paper says to make time for avocados in all of your masks—swallow the fat after you’ve chew-chew-chewed it & worn it one last time drunk around the largest mirror you’ve rented. Dawn asks me to turn on sports & I do—I pull for flightless birds. Isn’t sleep a color now, or at least part of the wheel? I am a train in the third dream of the night; there’s no track, sound, or light—I wake up cold, white, ready to burn & have any good to come of it pulled out of me.

Parker Tettleton is a Leo, a vegan, a resident of Portland, Oregon. He is also the author of the grocery-shopping-themed collection Greens (Thunderclap Press, 2012) as well as the chapbooks Same Opposite (Thunderclap Press, 2010) & Ours Mine Yours (Pity Milk Press, 2014). More or less is here.

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One Response to What Comes After The End

  1. Susan Doble Kaluza says:

    I don’t normally comment on poems, because I noticed either nobody reads the comments or they don’t care, or maybe it doesn’t matter; but for what it’s worth I like your originality, to use a very general term; but more specifically,I like that your poems aren’t just a bunch of nonsensical sentences strung together but that there is music and balance to your string of thoughts. And there is also a kind of breathless depth. And beauty.

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