Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Page and Spine, The Pointed Circle, and Failed Haiku, among others.
GACY NEVER DID THIS
Obsessed with pictures of clowns. Acrylic, gouache, camel hair brushes. You sit late into night, search for the perfect shade of crimson to mix into clown white. You realize your error, replace the canvas with a mirror.
HIGH-RISK BEHAVIOR IN CINEMASCOPIC RAIN
Prisms bounced Against the mahogany wall as cars pass by and light the drops on the window. Steak, bloody, so right you can cut it with a fork, and you do. A drop of bovine communion smears your lower lip, as later the sacred rites we share will leave droplets around your mouth. There has been talk of safety, of myth and reality and the various piece of two sordid and prolific pasts, there has been agony and latenight drunken rages, but we always reach the same conclusion: this thing we have, this is worth dying for
 The title is a quote from Gillian Conoley’s poem “The World”.
Cleveland, OH, 13Jun97
The desire to return to animal nature to dive into the medulla overload senses with prolonged blasts of distorted steel mills the firefight the crush of suffocation how the knife descends the sternum flesh pulled back to reveal the organs again and again how the pleasure needs the assault burdened the mind may shut down reject flee ears regaled with one hundred thirty decibels may falter at the end half the room is empty all the women have stayed