FIZZ POEM TO MYSELF
Nathan HoksWhy am I a tired can of fizz
Why do I shiver
and exude mist
from a tongue-shaped hole
Why am I tripping on sandstone
carpet — tulips — mulch
Why flick my dead skin
into the radiator
It’s like the sun tipped over
the can of oil
on the dusty garage shelf
As they say
once a metalhead
always a metalhead
Thy soul is shrink wrapped
peppermint candy flint light dusting
Thy soul is twisted ivory a singing career
the linden the flower and the fruit
Thy soul is that basement window
you broke when you were 10
and like Mayakovsky
I intend to murder the sun
with mintgreen thumbtacks