Fluxed
by Matt Ronquillo
Sounds of the young and upset:
Twang-rang-pot-bang (tornado dance in the kitchen),
like roof shingles sky-flipping in the wake of my orange sneakers
I’m an amphetamine-snot-rocketing-
counter-clock-wise-ass,
redhead hair-whipping
spiraling
alone
Aiming for purgatory,
yet perpetually older,
a flesh-bordered, fluxed enclosure,
speeding through myself, …

Metalstar
by Matt Ronquillo
Terror Creak is the name I took from a bunch of friends
off six different dimensions.
None of which had pens or the will to invent them.
Hence this theft. I ripped them off.
I sold our …

Viola
by Matt Ronquillo
A pioneer at forefront
Once hanging from a hook in a void room
Trying to fit abstract, revolving patterns into other ones
Now thrashes perpetually in the wake
Darling smiles cracked at skies receding
Red dragging him instead …

Jakarta, Noise and I
by Matt Ronquillo
The selves and the mania forming broke down chaos
got dropped from the hands of new friends crossing outdated territories
where their futuristic maps got laid to rest.
The shards and shreds of …

Ran
by Matt Ronquillo
Stagnancy deactivated
like psycho-Texas-era-revival-mode.
Like using the same preposition
too much to describe everything.
Fuck wasting time.
The bone-encased
anti-homing device
haunts itself relentlessly
with a dark between the beams
that looms inward perpetually,
that already went and ran inside
and side-wound around
my well …

Freedom Slash Victory
by Matt Ronquillo
Was chiefing like a whatever and on a pretty high dose of Concerta plus Adderoll of which the high I’ve deduced is a lot like cocaine but w/out the rapid shift …

Gwendolyn Fluxed
by matt ronquillo
My friends wanted to go out dancing but I was like, “Flux you,” because I was tired from traveling, but they showed up at my apartment at the downtown high rise anyway. …

Featherhead
by matt ronquillo
I’ve spent my whole life building a vehicle to launch myself into space with,
but I’ll probably flame out,
crashing into river rocks, grating into gravel with a serrated thunder clap,
spitting a thirty-two-batch enamel coated …

’78 Two-Seater Limousine
by matt ronquillo
Gasoline finger-
tips tobacco
plug and chiefing
on the way
to get more chaw.
Knowing shadows,
seeing chaos
in the rear-view,
relinquishing it
facetiously.
Never alone,
always around
solitude-induced
illusion people
more full of shit than me.
Road is lancing
at my eyes,
headlights flicker
on and off on
specifically …

Scattered
by matt ronquillo
Curling along a drawl tied to tongue alongside the flowing water’s current were sparks of a greater meaning as glimmers do among collective rivers:
“Nothing divides a people who strive in common like the trampling …

lead
by matt ronquillo
Tim Kerosene had me out back on the porch talking with him about the long cranial whispers we’d hear when the whirlwinds ceased, like I was some kind of resident here like him.
“The …

The Ranchero Chronicles: Victorville
by matt ronquillo
Dead birds flew through my windshield last fall
when they started letting cats into heaven.
I got out of the car with that
knife-shaped ice cube mold
and ran till I could wring my …