The chin is civil. Boring hair
worms through a chuck,
or doesn’t. Ingrown whiskers
wrestle. The worth of a weevil
depends. Inured evil,
as an enterprise, shills.
Even the upright magistrate
curves through a telescope,
which is his beaten wife. Indoors
his tight glands, a boy’s hands
cup an oblong rowanberry or
bury a row of oblong cups.
Competing examples bedizen.
Intestinal fortitude’s rigid
scrip. Loose schemata on
the quality of facial expression:
that it is struck open-handed.


Peter Longofono’s poems have appeared in H_NGM_N, fields, Luna Luna Magazine, and Tenderloin, among others. He serves as the Reviews Editor at Coldfront and makes music with Big Figment and TH!CK. His chapbook, CHORDS, was published in March 2016 by the Operating System. He lives in Brooklyn.