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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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CODY BADARACCA Cold night along the Mississippi He rolled up outta his chair like a dead body rolls up off the river bottom when the gases get too much inside and floats it like a balloon Eyes grinnin' yellow and pale reflectin' a gray moon overhead He rolled up and hit me and I felt his fist take the place where my jaw might've been should've been. I felt my teeth clink side ways like tinkling piano keys breaking to the sound like a hammer on glass and I felt just like that dead body that eventually I knew I'd become My pain grew up tall and a very dull feeling began to encompass me as blow after blow began to yellow my eyes w/ that leering skeletal grin of his pulling through my vision into my memory like a magnet flecked w/ blood I don't remember the river, just that clouds had begun to cover over the moon. Cody Badaracca grew up in North Routt County, Colorado, near the town of Clark. He has a B.A. in journalism and is the publisher and owner for Voices Of [the] Goat Publishing, which exists largely in his mind and on his laptop. He's been published in My Favorite Bullet. He sometimes dreams about living in the desert of New Mexico or the bayou of Louisiana. If for no other reason, the variety of reptiles and the mild winters. |
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