Joseph Bouthiette Jr

For he spake--The gates of divinity part and out rush predatory birds. The taste of strawberries. The shepherd raises their right hand, breaks bread. An owl by any other name. There is a merry gaiety in harvesting human teeth from nectarous fruit.--and it was done. He commanded--A hellscape of rot and rut. Brittle angels and biting insects. Flutes salt the earth. The corpse of a coelacanth dissolves into pastel foam. Sibilant language chewing women, ushering neurotoxins, belching charred oak. And, then, rain.--and it stood fast. Ekphrastic prose and poetry in (ir)reverence to The Garden of Earthly Delights.

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