107 | by Joseph V. Milford

tried to remember the last time i stayed with her in a hotel. only powdered eggs came to mind. everything dehydrated. my friend says I live like an astronaut. Spartan. desk-command center. according to the San Diego Zoo, there are over 4600 species of lizards. husbands and wives too. Jesus Lizard lyric: “More than an occasional hazard/ You run the risk of conceiving a bastard.” the lounge lizard is a Basilisk Lizard—it runs through bottles, crosses oceans of copious alcohol. your heart palpitating like a vibrating divining rod. like a hula dancer on a dashboard. like fear. or the best day of your ever-loving life? but a listless man? we all need our devil’s workshops. gone freebooter. gone raiding. gone wild-cattin’. free from excavation. knowing it must happen. the irony of teaching The Epic of Gilgamesh while you are homeless. your students are as well. you are freckled with cuneiform. they pockmarked with Pokemon. meet in between with notes.

 


 

Joseph V. Milford is the author of the poetry collections CRACKED ALTIMETER (BlazeVox Press) and TATTERED SCROLLS AND POSTULATES, VOL I. (Backlash Press). He is an English professor and Creative Writing instructor living south of Atlanta, Georgia. He also edits the online poetry thread, RASPUTIN, A POETRY THREAD.