new gear

(Coop Lee)




Mercury Ave.

blue houses.
silverback gorilla in 1 garage.
2 garage: a chained girl.
3 garage: some man drinking exhaust.
4 garage: empty.

girl with gun at the edge of her lawn & selling lemonade.
girl in old chair.
girl & within her is an ancient horror

the television.
the microwave.
the mirror & blender beverages.
hymnals of electric kitchen
& the porch or street,
mom’s dances.
waist deep & hoolahooping.

water to beer to fishing
with dad or uncle or
restless armless boys in orange sunsets -
convenience store fed.

girl heaves in the corner -
fruit bits.
some man throws at her money,
or paper wads of tongue.
young tongue.                                     
it is lipstick written:
                dinosaurs will fuck shit up.

or ghosts of slumber parties.
stolen girls, sisters
braiding eachother’s hair at night & contemplating life
without supervision.




Coop Lee is a writer and artist from Idaho. He enjoys drinking beer beside the river, pizza parties with friends, and occult rituals. Some would call him a mystical honky. Others wouldn’t.


At the edge of a great snowfield Louie Otesanek grew different shapes and shades. His palms are wide and dark and mingled with the highest sky. See more of his work here.







3 Responses to new gear

  1. Raymond Farr says:

    Philip, terrific poetry! Again!

  2. fez says:

    They’re so grand

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