Sean D. Henry-Smith

isosceles, serial

aerial sermons in sequence, unbothered

                                                            sequentially, his mouth a sonic playground
unsought on sight

                                      a treatise a treat a tease a testimony

                                                                        slick wisdom shift swiftly swiftlets

lefty loosely sixty swallows swans starlings swinging atmospheric

pushed to the outer edge

in sweet succession

when the moon is ready

she will drown you

The garden at the Underground.

drenched in purple and possibility. lil edges all laid. horseback bandits. naked and illuminate. share a spirit with Ms. Lawson after the orange. are you surreal? dancing with the Woods on your birthday. that fucked up Gober; motherfucker’s just as complicit. the widow, forlorn. the hood hang, citizens of the world.

we are all undeserving of Nina Simone, but especially white people.

are you here for fashion or for poetry? or the pity part. all the same. that’s sage you’re smelling, I swear. the cat’s missing larynx, from that fight long ago. are you surreal? fuck around and get got, or another earring. paintings of your friends for your friends. you gotta work with who you know. rewrite it all for your own sanity and victory. pleasure always creeps up. you can’t really plan for it, but make sure there’s a seat ready.

leap over the ocean and gesture with ecstasy.
ultimately, I want to change.

Sean D. Henry-Smith is a poet and photographer intrigued by their intersections. His first chapbook, Body Text, was selected by Lucas de Lima for the New Delta Review 2015-2016 Chapbook Competition. His work has appeared in Tammy Journal, New Delta Review, Newspaper, and Tagvverk. He is a recent recipient of he Poets House Emerging Poets Fellowship. You can find him online at @surrealsermons and