Eli Halpern
2 poems
**
Itinerary, Somewhere Off
First and foremost the beach waves. What you said as you broke the line of moths a sequence of Top 40. Now receiving backhanded. Beach waves which shapes like mouth or beach ball; I notice an elderly man who before was somewhere off. The day mostly beach, despite sexual in sight. In magnetism, sick stuff. Greg biting a beach ball hardly shaped. Swung beneath our mothers, and were watched silently given lovingly corn dogs. Which means condescension, which moths or most non-beach material can't perform. The day mostly likely.
Secondhand, some sand or grit. This is where you spilled unused to showers at a beach, mostly from nerve. Children knowing exactly how to expose themselves. Which wasn't a projector, first and foremost beach waves. They move with some idea of the moon, they don't pay for it. Finished too late to claim a room or computer, returning somewhere off.
Greg lovingly. Bitten a corn dog and checks his mothers legs are there. (Pylons, like cows planted.) There's reaching into a tote bag and relearning the bottle's color. Which puts the sun somewhere off and will remind us parking before beach waves. But somewhere off, like with cousins instead of moths which it was. Returning older; first and foremost inheriting a mouth.
It's at a time where the projector is found appropriate. There is hair now (off) and bikinis (extra). Lighter in tone than skin or the dog running at her side--which is visible to Greg, but rounder, contrasted. The shape is of a mouth or saying it, the others in hair. Chiefly, in the Top 40 and with a side moon. Sunning allowed in the absence of direct sun (a high cloud, or closer, lotion). To hide his hair, dogging him, to move partly where he has a mother. Corn dogs are nauseous now.
Kid, Ball! In others, somewhere off, an old clot of hair. Tangentially his nerve at the shower and as a child showing. Old clot being moths, the same hole. Eggs all sorts: Greg has one sliding in a bikini, not the dog's side; one the moth dies with set in its necklace; one flanked by Top 40 which has an idea of half it. Corn dogs purposely without egg. It wouldn't even make sense unless somewhere off, a mouth used to be here despite age. Sick stuff.
I was courting for a while and wouldn't let off. Which is stuck in Top 40; even making out. Even finding cars that let. It wasn't with bikinis, who were showing dogs swimming. There was the first time with hair with smoking. I tried freaking but I had a moth in it--she responded. Lastly in a bag. Evading cars and dog altogether, first and foremost, there was a listing in the hair clot. Which she found somewhere off not making out. Which prevented saying it.
Tuesday a next beach day. We by now were sitting. Some youth hands me over a light, which I've been smoking for some months now. I forgot and was bit--an egg none of us could lay, Top 40. Definitely. PLEASE Curb Your Dogs. She congratulates someone from the back and turning, appears to sweat. But not showing, only her mouth fell and the shower bit it. Even children were somewhere off.
**
The Heat
Sanchez explores her vest
by bleeding
you harelip clown
she's INANIMATE
the FBI tears open room but will
inherit no (local) earth
.........(wreathed in moving
violation)
no one else checks out
the seasons change seasons
its tense she was pregnant Callahan
for the storm
.........like the old pine
fragrance pours in three thousand
a month plus bonus
.........logs resistance out of
middling women
**
return to sawbuck 2.4
**
Eli Halpern is a common infection of the northeast, but originally spread from Chicago, IL. He is finishing up his final year at Brown University where he studies literary arts, pseudoscience, necromancy, and painting. His poems have appeared in GlitterPony, Death Metal Poetry, and Danjerfield. After college, Eli plans tentatively to herd sheep in North Wales.
**
Itinerary, Somewhere Off
First and foremost the beach waves. What you said as you broke the line of moths a sequence of Top 40. Now receiving backhanded. Beach waves which shapes like mouth or beach ball; I notice an elderly man who before was somewhere off. The day mostly beach, despite sexual in sight. In magnetism, sick stuff. Greg biting a beach ball hardly shaped. Swung beneath our mothers, and were watched silently given lovingly corn dogs. Which means condescension, which moths or most non-beach material can't perform. The day mostly likely.
Secondhand, some sand or grit. This is where you spilled unused to showers at a beach, mostly from nerve. Children knowing exactly how to expose themselves. Which wasn't a projector, first and foremost beach waves. They move with some idea of the moon, they don't pay for it. Finished too late to claim a room or computer, returning somewhere off.
Greg lovingly. Bitten a corn dog and checks his mothers legs are there. (Pylons, like cows planted.) There's reaching into a tote bag and relearning the bottle's color. Which puts the sun somewhere off and will remind us parking before beach waves. But somewhere off, like with cousins instead of moths which it was. Returning older; first and foremost inheriting a mouth.
It's at a time where the projector is found appropriate. There is hair now (off) and bikinis (extra). Lighter in tone than skin or the dog running at her side--which is visible to Greg, but rounder, contrasted. The shape is of a mouth or saying it, the others in hair. Chiefly, in the Top 40 and with a side moon. Sunning allowed in the absence of direct sun (a high cloud, or closer, lotion). To hide his hair, dogging him, to move partly where he has a mother. Corn dogs are nauseous now.
Kid, Ball! In others, somewhere off, an old clot of hair. Tangentially his nerve at the shower and as a child showing. Old clot being moths, the same hole. Eggs all sorts: Greg has one sliding in a bikini, not the dog's side; one the moth dies with set in its necklace; one flanked by Top 40 which has an idea of half it. Corn dogs purposely without egg. It wouldn't even make sense unless somewhere off, a mouth used to be here despite age. Sick stuff.
I was courting for a while and wouldn't let off. Which is stuck in Top 40; even making out. Even finding cars that let. It wasn't with bikinis, who were showing dogs swimming. There was the first time with hair with smoking. I tried freaking but I had a moth in it--she responded. Lastly in a bag. Evading cars and dog altogether, first and foremost, there was a listing in the hair clot. Which she found somewhere off not making out. Which prevented saying it.
Tuesday a next beach day. We by now were sitting. Some youth hands me over a light, which I've been smoking for some months now. I forgot and was bit--an egg none of us could lay, Top 40. Definitely. PLEASE Curb Your Dogs. She congratulates someone from the back and turning, appears to sweat. But not showing, only her mouth fell and the shower bit it. Even children were somewhere off.
**
The Heat
Sanchez explores her vest
by bleeding
you harelip clown
she's INANIMATE
the FBI tears open room but will
inherit no (local) earth
.........(wreathed in moving
violation)
no one else checks out
the seasons change seasons
its tense she was pregnant Callahan
for the storm
.........like the old pine
fragrance pours in three thousand
a month plus bonus
.........logs resistance out of
middling women
**
return to sawbuck 2.4
**
Eli Halpern is a common infection of the northeast, but originally spread from Chicago, IL. He is finishing up his final year at Brown University where he studies literary arts, pseudoscience, necromancy, and painting. His poems have appeared in GlitterPony, Death Metal Poetry, and Danjerfield. After college, Eli plans tentatively to herd sheep in North Wales.
Labels: 2.4, eli halpern
