ISSUE 01: STATE(D) VIOLENCE
ABOUT
J. T. CONNOR
j t connor lives in Austin, TX. Their poetry can be found in KGB Lit, antiphony, Verses From The Underground, & elsewhere. IG: austin.police.department
oh lord, can you hear?
oh lord, can u hear? do u hear? the poets
are great at work today…
//tonite, on bbc radio//
“he said, ‘i will be blown by a mine,
sit beneath a mortar; i won’t wait; i
am no prisoner.’ i pray he won’t, instead
ov prison.”
imagine deviating. can you listen,
lord ov poets, 2 this special song,
another war, sudan blacken by smoke.
the people need help. inevitable
worldly conflict is the sturgeon
caviar on the poet’s cracker.
listen, people suffer. that is truth—
on god, it is yr command: “remember those
in prison as if u were bound with them, &
those who r mistreated as if u were suffering
with them.” hear ye lord, do u suffer or
avoid from above? listen! we clack!
do we really think a letter is a bullet?
the key pressed in our own smoke—the
smoke off an american spirit blue.
trails steam from out each corner
ov our chapstick lips after a
caramel starbucks cappuccino
whilst dawn fog wisps thru dew
in mourning, & rises vast, lifts
toward an angelic sun-hole heaven
as if each word acts like a pulled
trigger.
while angels’ laundry dry
on a celestial clothesline along
their garden ov spilt conundrum,
apple blossoms buried in plastic
pots, freshly squeezed serpent,
& slut-dirtied loincloths: the poem
survives—
but not without exemplary morals,
an army’s intestinal fortitude,
magnanimous might, womanly grace,
the threat ov atomic annihilation,
& another war 2 loot the words
from dead men.