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DANNIEL SCHOONEBEEK

Les Fauves


Kid I’ll smear

dog blood

in your eyes

if I have to

and sorry

our bodies

grow fur

mine’s gray

and pelted

you’re slate

our flanks

sorry raw

they smoke

the sundown

long brother

don’t die

like our opa

our american

toad who 

scraped teeth

all his life

then croaked

no let’s run

bang our head

on this rock

and the scrub

grass in our

village licking

your meat

yes the sun

smokes them too

bang our head

don’t let’s wait

tie your rope

around a tornado

why don’t we

  


41   The Paris-American

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Danniel Schoonebeek was born in the Catskills. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Tin House, Boston Review, Fence, Gulf Coast, Colorado Review,
Guernica
, Denver Quarterly, Crazyhorse, Kenyon Review, La Petite Zine, The Awl, Publishers Weekly, and elsewhere. He writes a monthly column on poetry for The American Reader, hosts the Hatchet Job reading series in Brooklyn, and works as associate editor at PEN America.


   
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 Meghann Plunkett
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