All the Pills are Sick by Heath Brougher

Remnants seized otherwise joy

from the tinsel basket laid on the windowledge

soft enough to be pillows; rectangular embryos pious

mothershrouds floating hands over mouths

oozed with sap, eternal man dances

the hallways clear to forgetfulness,

thrust standing by the gasoline when possessed

along enthralled visages of spilled dreams

learning their nonsense to be blanked and turned into reality

thisly fosterably and lulled to a dormancy

men play pill games to sever, once frail

near the extraneous engine, blubber from the meat

soft again enough the bloodripple succumbs

to the sedated pain we hear yelps

through the rampant noise of the bloodbath

thus earplugs find their way

to deafen the voice when he sees you spill stringent dreams

during the preface thin and blonde to the metropolis

from otherwise joy wholesomely oblivious embryos

stragleholding somehow rectangular piousfed

their dullnipple ultimatums of nearly-nonexistent men

dancing though hallways to restricted whorerooms

by the umbrage of motherhands covering eyes.

Jam Bomb by Heath Brougher

Your ooble booble drooble oobles

your hastas wastas wistis gerk

your timid tidal epidural fleek on scric

blowning offa opal open poem cone pome

sulled silled sashed slashed mumma fumma

into vast kummatose Galaxy

hydrational disproportion izn’t probeerly pud to

gether in toolshed enoughing flavorless stuffing

groog grod manna raze the already deady

heady and no heady but bendy

send me away awash awhorl

send away for me cornucopia hands

that are not hands…………twisted gaVeyard all there so sadly amany.


sky traps mountainheads on school teacher properties.

Infectious Bloom by Heath Brougher

you trip up a trophy

that you already lost

local focal points

to the oven

in your stomach

in the belly cavities

of thick lungthrum

the trumpet dislodges

gurgle of trumpets

already lodged in throat—

my promise to send

you my bones

in a tin can of water

if you promise

to blast them off

into outer space

has left me

lumbering languid, lonesome—

your insides keep

vomiting velvet coffins

spreading big russet blotches

among the white cotton plush fad

slushing out repeatedly

like a regurgitation

of continual whale birth.


Heath Brougher is the poetry editor of Five 2 One Magazine and co-poetry editor of Into the Void Magazine. He has published three chapbooks, “A Curmudgeon Is Born” (Yellow Chair Press 2016), “Digging for Fire” and “Your Noisy Eyes” (both by Stay Weird and Keep Writing Press 2016). He is a Best of the Net Nominee and his work has been translated into Albanian. He was the judge of Into the Void Magazine’s 2016 Poetry Competition and edited the anthology “Luminous Echoes,” the sales of which will be donated to help with the prevention of suicide. His work has appeared or is due to be published in Of/with, Chiron Review, SLAB, Main Street Rag, The Angry Manifesto, Mobius, The Seventh Quarry, Gold Dust, Cruel Garters, Gloom Cupboard, Picaroon Poetry, *82 Review, Otoliths, Fowl Feathered Review, BlazeVOX, Leaves of Ink, Dark Matter Journal, A New Ulster, Blue Mountain Review, X-Peri, Peeking Cat Poetry, eFiction India, and elsewhere.

Chewing on Rhinoceros Blood by Heath Brougher

steadfast evanescence captures
the edge of you silently fading from
a shadow’s orphanageous droplet
in the house having simultaneous dreams,

transparent pulse flutters off
danced to death in soliloquy’s hours harshfringed
nightshades collapse from the wish
frailly balanced on good and evil;

the meaning and cause of yawns
mingle with the cartoonglow memories
keeping a glass of liquid sympathy shrouded
by wet pupils halfly drained yet solid in wonderance
of how the euphony was detached
from the raspberry rubies
of sleep
and thrown so carelessly onto the everlasting
azure blaze of morning.

Kingdom Crumb by Heath Brougher

Give love like dove sucking plumpulps;

handle his keen legs  ~~  his limping beak

sputtering spouting chirping shuddering

from the ice-block weather

rustling behind his nest

the stolen color-shape

of his eggs

all eaten by the consummate human:

lain on tables, his son,

scrambled cooked beside bacon

—legs and heart—mushed—


forever unpumping

mixed with unhad feathers,

slight tweet, slight askance

for love;

now he resides in the stomach,

churning into bile,

unfluttered days

handle him;

give love like a dumb sucking eggplumps,

soon to vomit entire flocks.

Boxing for Airtime by Heath Brougher

So strutteral and rambunctational.

Meanwhile your swagger is so thickend outtwhirled

that otherwise people have been snapshot-talking about

you behind your earlobes. I never did understandify why

you carry so much about the weight of what other flesheden automatonians

thought about your emenatious animationness inny[buttonbelly]way.

Just ferment about them and leave your lifeing to yourself.

Youar’ much bedder off this way. I don’t care

about the idiocity they associalate with you.

Prewriting the Future by Heath Brougher

Mass explosion
stones and fossils
golfed from Mexico
across the Atlantic to land
as a hole in one in Africa

made up of these raw elements
wearing dinsosaurskin and dinsoarteeth
so dinosaurly human

molecule, atoms we are
……………………………………the recycled
offspring of eggless dirtdiggers
who bore us out—

…………………..look for it—
…………………..dig through your eyes be-
cause it’s there to be


Heath Brougher is the poetry editor of Five 2 One Magazine. He has published two chapbooks, “A Curmudgeon Is Born” (Yellow Chair Press 2016) and “Digging for Fire” (Stay Weird and Keep Writing Publishing Co. 2016), with a third titled “Your Noisy Eyes” due out in 2017. He is a Best of the Net Nominee and was the judge for Into the Void Magazine’s 2016 Poetry Competition. He is also the editor of the anthology “Luminous Echoes” (Into the Void Press 2016). His work has appeared in journals such as Gloom Cupboard, Chiron Review, Mobius, Gold Dust, A New Ulster, Otoliths, Main Street Rag, X-Peri,, Cruel Garters, Sonic Boom, Lotus-Eater, Of/with, Foliate Oak, Tipton Poetry Journal, eFiction India, BlazeVOX, Expound, Word For/Word, and elsewhere.