Pet milk

we leave the poets and go outside
because fields are in flower
no, no edelweiss
this is not bollywood
tookie snoots

not merely record heat
a real bobby dazzler
crash of glass

our hats labeled
antichrist and demon uncle
half a guinea
(ten and six)

for some swamp chopin
non-academic   in open tuning

i don’t remember my dreams
so i have to invent them
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Susan?”
—Miss February
muy buenas noches
La Llorona
   dances the tango
Pet milk












Alastair Johnston is a printer and author living in Berkeley, California. He is trying to realize Oliver Cromwell’s dictum: a man never rises so high as when he doesn’t know where he is going. www.poltroonpress.com

Alastair Johnston is a frequent contributor to *82 Review. Find more of his work in this issue 4.1 as well as previous issues.