You, miss, have me thinking of the tile.
How cool it is on your back after the party.
everyone should go...
it’s still going on!
Listen, the film boy’s sneakers
the cigarettes toasting on the porch.
They’re the last of the last
out there hiking up their overalls seeking whatever else can be scavenged,
seeing if someone will fill their pockets, or will someone please take them home.
You, miss, have me thinking of my body.
Which kisses me and breaks me like all the bread I’ve been eating,
because God wants me to be more like him,
so I’ve been eating his son,
who’s pressed bible paper into a wafer.
This tiny disk filled with top secret information.
My plutonium heart.
Beating through my spine naked on the bath mat.
You, miss, have had all the wine and the music has stopped
and the service is over
and the reception is in the other room.
Where nobody is watching,
not even god,
So this is where everything gets believable.
Where I can believe wine could be blood, that We’ve already kissed,
All the bread we broke
the morning after I met you.
About the artist...
David Stobbe is an actor and poet from the Joliet, Illinois, which is known for its prisons and high school symphonic bands. With a B.A. in Musical Theater, he finds a passion in writing about over-exposure. Whether that be sex, information, toxic masculinity, or the self he wants to explore the ridiculous and laughable nature of it all; In our everyday friendships, hookups, the material, all directly affected by casino-like universe in our hands. Through collaboration he wants to harness the potential of the internet, with all of its free content and explore the slow and naive nature of self actualization, romanticized history, selling yourself, and the ever vanishing line of sexuality.
Want to see more of David's work?
Check out his work from previous issues: