Bleary-eyed High-beam Strain-glow

Throwing it,

                        object-symbolic out window.

 
Lazy like careful.

                        I love through some other.

If it’s preeminent,

                                    hold back the tent flaps

                                    so, I can guess what shadow your

                                    fingers make.

Has a hole always been in your head?
Or did you just make that story up?

Powder the nose of the moon.

                        Anything you need, but

don’t covet the ring not bought for you.

                        The [A] the [a],

Suppose no other alternative object-double-other relation.

The sound of snow falling in the stream still makes me want
To put my head between my knees.

I couldn’t sleep flat on my back.

Flick on light up light down night light.

High-beams.

Andrew Hutto writes out of Louisville, KY. He was recently awarded third place in the 2020 Flo Gault Poetry Prize. In the summer of 2019, he served as a preliminary judge for the Louisville Literary Arts Writer’s Block Prize in Fiction. Presently, he serves on the Pine Row Press editorial board. His work appears or is forthcoming in THRUSH Poetry Journal, Plum Tree Tavern, Amethyst Review, The Weekly Degree°, BARNHOUSE, After the Pause, Math Magazine, Cathexis Northwest Press and Poet Lore. His work has also previously appeared in Eunoia Review.

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