NAZ BOWMAN






MID-AIR BREASTS


Stand around and smell

They are cinders from wood-loin fathers

Let them chant the ingredients to the purple paste

From sacs on defense organs

All a series of names with double-digits at the end

Up and out for the abundant vegetable of doubt





ELOHIM


I'm 50 years old

Afraid of all shapes

The dark is a lover who says

You are going to tear me apart





WE ARE THE CIRCUMCISION


I am beyond eating

my hand stays in the fryer

the collateral for all this

a thimble full

from the tip of what she took

to be my cock

I haven't a foreskin

I’m not particularly faithful

cause is obscene

I rape the best

parts into being

the worst parts I don’t think

I'm getting my deposit back

later she will call

without a phone

from a mounted position and say

“Look what I turned you into”

I see a statue of Mary stomping

on a snake neither looks innocent

she says

“Its useful now”


NAZ BOWMAN lives in Philadelphia.