sweet time beneath a mumbling sun
by clem flowers
trigger warnings: implied bigotry, religious allusions, blood, implied violence
ride all afternoon the
hills are drowning in
gold – “touch with
your eyes, not your
hands – trying to
ignore ignore
ignore the
fires the famine
the fears the bold
lies slung through
every breath the
sort of things hacky
standups used to
spout as oddities in
“third world backwater
nowheres” and now
hate pain blood joy
rejoice rejoice at the
end of another life the
nice people in the
nice TV suits said
were bad and how
Jesus would be so
Proud to know how
well His Word was
being upheld – laugh
laugh like it’s the first
time you’re seeing the
episode where Homer
falls down Springfield
Gorge irony so
rich thick it almost
gets lost in the
molasses of the humid
summer dusk
out here in the
deep hitch of Nothing
in the valley of shadow under
a deconsecrated Baptist temple
you and yours
found Home
to be You
to be The Light
to be Who You Always Were Meant To
See prom queens turned
five o’clock shadow studs titans
of a family dynasty of athletes
turned ambulance chasers wedding
football pads with frilly lavender and
sequins the fading heat bringing
a slow, heady air to the proceedings like
we’re at a gala premiere and the world
has gone sepia and we smile as big
as we did when we thought the
world was waiting for
us when we thought we
were gonna go get
after True Paradise Endless
Joys A Life Made Better
smile
like we did
when we
were kids and
the world wasn’t so Afraid
Afraid of the Unknown
Afraid of the Evolution
Afraid of the New Truths
Afraid of the Night
Afraid of the Dissolution of the Binary
Afraid
of all
They
didn’t want
to understand
so here we
darlings of
Deep South
Black Sheep
the Bent
Sugarcane of
No Use but too
big a pain to
root out (for
now) (“Fires Always Bloom In The Summer.”)
in a just
world we
wouldn’t have
to scurry in
the dark like
our Truths are
wrong to Live like
terrified bunnies
out in the yellowed
eyes of some Unknown
fanged monster if
the game wasn’t
rigged from the
start, we all would
be Free Live Learn
a New Age of
Prosperous Happiness
would shake the World
like no other
times in Recorded History
tomorrow – revolution
tonight – dance
“Hope Springs
Eternal in the
Bosom of
a Honeysuckle
Dawn.”
clem flowers (any/all) is a soft-spoken southern transplant effeminate enby poet, fuzz pedal enthusiast, and one who has lost so many hours of their life in a sea of antique malls. they live in who knows where, utah, with their sweetheart & delight of a husband, moon, as well as their darling kitty, luna. they are the author of eight chapbooks and one full-length poetry collection, a multiple time pushcart and best of the net nominee.
clem can be found on twitter @clem_flowers & on bluesky at clemflowers.bsky.social