Three Poems by Brad Liening

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Dollars du Mal

You have 1,000 dark rooms
to get through. It doesn’t
really matter
what happens next.
You are survived
by small denominations.
You are given credit.

Nightmare Shift

The best public defiling
creates a momentary moment
archived forever.
Just one soul toils
on his phone through the night.
In the morning he gets ice cream,
mint chocolate toxic genius chip.
Whatever it is he cares about
it isn’t your dreams
snarled into chicken wire.
There’s no blood in my eyes.
I can see Home
Depot just over the horizon.

The Park

is closed
for tentacle
season

Brad Liening lives in Minneapolis, MN, and at bradliening.blogspot.com.

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