ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
E.B. Schnepp is a poet currently residing in Chicago. Their work has been featured in Poetry Daily and can be found in Gulf Coast, Nat. Brute, and Iron Horse Review, among others.
Also by E.B. Schnepp:
Turn me on, dead man
the only colors left were blood and earth and still I dreamed of water
Changeling
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
You're not supposed to pet the dogs of Chernobyl
Heavenly Bodies
September 4, 2024
Billy Idol would love you back, but that wouldn’t be very punk rock of him
Let’s be honest, I want to be loved
the way only a god can.
Tell me which altar to sacrifice myself on
before you swan song for some other
lovely thing that can only wither.
You’re simply too vast to be-
hold. I want to hold up my hands, show you
the blood on my palms, that it was mine;
holy, all your unholies. Devotion
just another name for desire,
rendered holy by sacrament. The blank
end pages a long cesura to desire —
I’d ask you to hold me, but you’re a figment,
tongue flattened to the roof of someone else’s
mouth seeking holy — what does any of it matter
when you could make an omen out of this,
when you don’t know who this is in worship of.
Is he even a god or is he simply a ghost,
watered down nostalgia with a misplaced
name who still can’t get that song out of his head,
humming along in the background
of your every nightmare. Earworm
fever in your daydreams. This isn’t neon,
but it is similarly ecstatic.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published weekly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
