GASHADOKURO

An apocalyptic poem.

I.

Merrily they commune

bare flesh etched across putrescent forms

lost souls who frolic in the arms

of Death’s ashen grove.

 

Smiling in their rites

engorged forms stumbling

hand in hand over snuff-colored dirt

beneath the sweltering cyst

amongst the stars.

 

Wriggling worms writhe between stubbed toes

fat fluttering flies enfold bloated bellies

juicy leeches linger on sagging thighs

enraged hornets sting at swelled uvulas

horned beetles make their homes in hollow bones.

 

Enshrouded in the stench

of rotting nectarines and burning salt

the bare ones dance

between the skeletons of charred trees

through the piss and the shit and the blood

splashing in torrents of acid rain

splashing in puddles of liquified doves

laughing with lashed throats

loving with curdled come.

 

Beneath their feet

beneath the dirt

beneath the stones

beneath the roots

beneath the graves

crowned in a wreath of teeth and spit

He slumbers, their beloved.

 

He will not wake for some time.

 

II.

They dance for Him

they dance forever.

as their forms fail

as flesh gives way to bone

as bones give way to dust

as dust spirals through the wind

as spirits intertwine

as mountains rise and their kind dies

they dance in the aether

they dance forever.

 

III.

An ashen grove

reinforced with steel

a snowglobe cage

of plains and trains

of towers and turnstiles

of churning crematoriums.

 

And salarymen live and die in cast-iron tombs

and schools of overripe intestines coil beneath brass lamps

and every alley holds a man with a bleeding blade

and cracked concrete chokes the dead

and gastric clouds asphyxiate the living

and there is a line outside the euthanasia booth

and there is a shortage at the electric chair factory.

the television shows a woman with her jaw blown off at noon

the movies show the ten-eyed spiders birthing at one-fifteen

the city makes merry with Death

the people smile.

 

Beneath their feet

beneath the dirt

beneath the stones

beneath the roots

beneath the graves

crowned in a wreath of teeth and spit

He wakes, their beloved.

 

Gashadokuro.

Gashadokuro.

Gashadokuro.

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Issue 1.2

COMING FALL 2022 IN PRINT AND EPUB. Purchasers will also receive access to downloadable desktop and phone wallpapers of our beautiful cover art created by the amazingly talented Katerina Belikova (aka Ninja Jo) and inspired by Ephiny Gale's story, “Watchhouse."
$10.00

Featured in

Issue 1.2

COMING FALL 2022 IN PRINT AND EPUB.

Purchasers will also receive access to downloadable desktop and phone wallpapers of our beautiful cover art created by the amazingly talented Katerina Belikova (aka Ninja Jo) and inspired by Brian Low's story, “Have You Seen This Hungry Ghost?"
$10.00

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GASHADOKURO

An apocalyptic poem.

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