An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
The Circus Is Coming
Two shots of novocaine
to the calf
when the clouds roll in
a dozen gramophones
that all play
the voices of the dead
Tunnel by feel progresses
walkway narrow but discernible.
Free will, the walk, in the sense
that one can stop, stare, become
food for cats, echidna. Capsules
for sustenance, stimulants.
Music always in the background.
Often polka. A rumor of light
filters from the front every so often
but never materializes.
Robert Beveridge writes poetry in Akron, just outside Cleveland, Ohio. Recent and upcoming appearances in Pink Litter, The Ignatian, Page and Spine, The Pointed Circle, and YuGen, among others.