Kevin Heaton


Listen to Audio Version read by Jill Khoury.

Ariel, breathless half-angel, transient
& opaque—amber & suspended; pensive
in the viscous light of a gilded moon.
symmetrical & aqueous; tinctures
of seascape & pastel twilight fleeting
through the prism of Leonardoís eye.
her salt: the wither on my finger tips.

* * *


Listen to Audio Version read by Jill Khoury.

My mind is like an orphaned floater with an ad hoc

A malodorous outhouse digest sombering a pastoral
setting alongside flamed out potsherds, bloated spring
peas, and spent tobacco wads.

A feckless, tagged out ainít mustered to a flustered
peckerwood. Iím up to my gall bladder scar in pee
hard apnea and Uncle Grandpa reruns.

AWOL, in an enchanted forest of pileated
sieve-trees—caning my way back to the cradle.


Kevin Heaton is originally from Kansas and Oklahoma, and now lives and writes in South Carolina. His work has appeared in a number of publications including: Guernica, Raleigh Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Vinyl Poetry, The Adroit Journal and The Monarch Review. He is a Best of the Net, Best New Poets, and three-time Pushcart Prize nominee.