Morals stream like sweat from a God
hawk-eyed and anxious at every sparrow.

She sits quietly on the bus, reading the news.
Where’s the child who would have shaken her womb?

The mountain waits for the land to be still
to begin its lecture on what will last.

He knows that he knows what he knows.
More facts are mere tits on a bull.

The Ubermensch weeping for a whipped horse.
The flesh finally seeing itself as it is.




 JBMulligan has had poems and stories in several hundred magazines, including recently, Angle, The Kerf, Loch Raven Review, Turbulence, and Shot Glass Journal, has had two chapbooks published: The Stations of the Cross and THIS WAY TO THE EGRESS, and has appeared in multiple volumes of the anthology, Reflections on a Blue Planet, as well and in the anthology, Inside Out: A Gathering OF Poets.  


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