Kevin Heaton – 3 poems



Daeva foxes whisper to hell hounds:
They gore my ox with a scimitar,
they cleave my scrot,
my bowels are lowing.  

I hear lambs.

The grave gives up my ghost.
I rise from the sod near Quivira, at Elysium.
There are virgins on a thousand hills,
they fill my bag with lotion.




Behind bamboo curtains: Trappings,
stacked metaphors, special effects.

Pubic illusions in cherry blossoms indenture
to what seems. A leggy web-lass displays

her motif; splayed in pleasure quarters, veiled
beneath a soupçon of pollen. A mime. A single

dancer. Appendages so lithe as to assuage
the trepidations of a more tenuous inquisitor.

Supple bindings heighten. A tiger swallowtail
crosses the eyes of a panther.

Her suitor whirls, silken. Pulsing, nonplused.
Tailored to her inducement without antidote.

A spun chrysalis stitched to a lotus thorn—
still courting hopes of dying softly.




that wasn’t


Pushcart Prize nominee Kevin Heaton writes in South Carolina. His work has appeared in a number of publications including: Raleigh Review, Mason’s Road, Foundling Review, The Honey Land Review, and elimae. His fourth chapbook of poetry, Chronicles, has just been released by Finishing Line Press. He is a 2011 Best of the Net nominee.


About gobbet

gobbet is a literary magazine dedicated to publishing the very best experimental poetry and prose. Intellectual perversity and explorations of dark themes are positively encouraged. We are only interested in work that is progressively experimental. We want to see risks, and we want to see them pay. No previously published work. Prose should not be longer than 1000 words. There are always exceptions. Send 3-5 poems. Include a short bio. Send submissions to Work will be published every 5-10 days. We also intend to publish anthologies of selected work published in gobbet. We will do our best to reply promptly. Most submissions will receive a decision within a month.
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