Sommer Browning 

Brandon Shimoda


as read by Toni Browning


A Native American man walks into a bowling alley
Bar wife
Two children in tow
To eat some early morning breakfast—young
Boy young girl young girl
Waitress looks up from a swirling
Rag says
We don't serve children
Here the man about
To seat himself at one of twelve tables stops
Looks up at the waitress
Says Excuse me?
To which she repeats we don't serve children
In here the man’s wife and two children
Politely get up and start walking back towards the door
Through which they had just entered the man
Does not
He is dismayed the rage
Is fast to come
First to his face second
His body this is
Bullshit motherfuckers
You're not gonna serve me? You're not gonna serve
Me? This is
Bullshit motherfuckers this is bullshit
The breakfast crowd looks up from their plates
Bacon the sausage
Is awful the eggs
Remind no one
Of the half-eaten melon in the dustyard
The sea hung up on the pine
The pinecone hung in the sprout
Behind where the heads
Lolled this is bullshit motherfuckers
You're not gonna serve me? you're not gonna
Serve me? This
Is bullshit
Motherfuckers the man's wife
And two children
Through the window from the bar among
The lanes sit
Down to order breakfast (same
Kitchen) while
The man moves rapidly from rage
To revolution this is
Bullshit motherfuckers This is bullshit
You're not gonna serve
Me? I'm
Gonna burn this fucking
Dump to
The ground! I'm gonna burn this
Dump to
The ground! Gold
Coins spring
From the slot
Machines the bunnies
Are white the bunnies are
Pink, and springing!


The Blowing Versa (II Fucking Space)

India stepped out

The parking lot was long and cold

She pulled a shotgun from her purse

Listeria in the lights

Your name flashing
I take out the trash. Encephalic
men flipping meat, clowns
on the weenie wheel

You are damn

Enormous and I

am small. Inside your inhalant arias

conjoin, then separate. This the pattern

Browning, the casino
wolves buckled into the ship, shedding into the wind

Deep echoes, splinters
I sleep in the rain, over the covers

In me, warm goo
Final likenesses mopped. Children in case

Monkeys, urchins, elephantastic

Tell my story backwards, legging
the edges when middles
Midwives elevating the chimney. Saturn is fucking
I have not seen since Hawaii  
Infinity of circles
stacked atop varnished wood. A soldier’s wonder
and coincidence
I sink seawater into a pitcher of Bud Light
Hegemony, the way I pronounce it
makes money. Big building
Dropped by aliens
Lanes I will see you


past simple home