Throats like Tornados – a poem by Chase Maxwell

Since I also write, I thought I might showcase some of my b-side poems here. After all, content is pretty slim, and you gotta cross-fade that cross-promotion, right? So without further ado, here’s an ekphrastic piece entitled “Throats like Tornados.”


Throats like Tornados

sprouts of exposed film like lights flicker behind the mind's-moving-eye,
whatever summers are gone, I can't find them in sunglasses,
held like stuffed bear eight months ago, these flowers

grow from Quetzalcoatl conch shell like culture hero, falling
cracked sideways on mushroom teachers, so whenever
cold mathematicians point punk rock lectures

at blooming grapes, it gives me chills,
I shriek like wine poured from hidden mouth,
spew books too skyscraper logical,
whatever hammers of control
you throw with language aren't healthy.

while civilized man harangues mother nature,
I'm just a child watching from the stars.

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