Three Poems / Alx Johns

 Goldsworthy

The
flat rocks
from the shore
are formed into an
egg the height of a
man awaiting the slow
growth of the tide rising
around the now-balanced,
rounded cone immersed in
natural time. He is shown
the seed within the
stone.


Fried Eggplant

The mystery must lie
in the way
it cooks
so fast,

crispy crust and creamy center
simply complex.

I've copied her every step,
and the result doesn't compare.
Is it the time of day she cooks?
The Seventies decor in the kitchen?
The airlight flakes of cigarette ash

drifting like the last leaves of autumn
into the batter?

Each time may be the last now,
so study her style
and savor each moment of each
movement of your jaw.


The Other

He wanted to be the first person
to launch a gator into space,
release it from the capsule.

"This will scare the shit out of those aliens!"

Hell yeah, it will.
Something with a face of fangs
and cold eyes floating up there.

Either this planet is guarded by
living gargoyles

or there are creatures here
who launch other creatures into
outer space.

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