Austin Miles 

under the varnish tree


(on)ion secret
               by flowered again
. .


where cld it go
+ then why cdn’t we kno



i’m not of the cherry type
  tho my limbs are grassy


some (we) believe brains
weird electrophoresis rather than


(calculating)
(muck)


water willow ad let in
    i try to get in touch w the river
    but keep (staring) upstream

get brains of willow
    my elbow becomes a fucking mouse


completely unclear?
           still gotta
           still gotta

                                                       the

field is not a site is
                                                       an    
agreement + fabulation

                                                      taken to

the feeld + meet

                (the) others

if then not a feeld
    becomes nice, just consumable


weird papers
a  fine day
                (dos) it

does it (field) have legs

we wonder under
    the varnish tree

                                                       but / the

field (has) tricked us

                                                                   + us
frozen, fools, ugh



Sedimented

a weird
a weird has me

the void!

sentimented stream
       flutter on forever



sentimental when there’s none
when a note
      a high


+ so who cld be killed in here?

                                  any # of ppl



i   think  in   general  u’ve  got
problems


a lack of fundamental dining ware



talk back



a large homely adolescent: fuck it

+ then daydreaming was burned
(by whome?)

a park that is mostly golf course
a zoo that is completely shit


+ the most democratic entity: a
crack
in the sidewalk

wd allow anyone to step on/in (it)

                                           the cause is

worthy
                                           +    i’m      an

aluminum person



Austin Miles is from southeast Ohio. He has poems published in the Colby Review, the Chicago Review, Midcult*, and elsewhere.