An exorbitant email from Kevin.
Do I know him? I know of no Kevin.
The subject ‘The Wind in the Sun Run to Play’.
Is it peotry or poetry— to some people, either,
faces full of babies and funerals
like rotten chicken in pink saran or
hearty loads of syrup wrapped in talk
like a nation—
Doubleclick, tripped to slink inward,
hello Kevin, do I know him? Wait—
there’s but advertisement, drumming,
‘come look, come see, look and see come and’
my English reading is irradiated on the product
offered, the quite unmanned electro-hovel.
Lechery. Site link. Name: Double Ripped Twinks.
There is no Kevin. The Wind in the Sun
Run to Play is nothing. There has been
a mistake I do not fail to remove.
What happens in the quarry, impossible Kevin,
where all bare feet are stickseed bled to stones?
What have you sent me, asking I enter;
the tale, the tail, the boughs, the brunt…
Un-Kevin, this pretend, it’s false, you think
you know it all, but I’ve no speculation
for crumpled souls in kruller arrangements.
Don’t you know?
—Ray Succre
Ray Succre is an undergraduate currently living on the southern Oregon coast with his wife and son. He has had poems published in Aesthetica, Poets and Artists, and Pank, as well as in numerous others across many countries. His novels Tatterdemalion (2008) and Amphisbaena (2009), both through Cauliay, are available in print. Other Cruel Things (2009), an online collection of poetry, is available through Differentia Press.
