The bad little brother of the Aurorean

[separator style_type=”double” top_margin=”0″ bottom_margin=”40″ sep_color=”#000000″ icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””]

[one_half last=”no” class=”” id=””]Austin Brookner[/one_half]

[one_half last=”yes” class=”” id=””]FALL 2016[/one_half]

[separator style_type=”double” top_margin=”0″ bottom_margin=”40″ sep_color=”#000000″ icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””]

In the Land of Corpses

God protects children, drunks and fools.
Of the three, I’m covered in two.
Was on a mission to find a bag,
On the west side and I know I have to cross town.

I’m superstitious – for the past two years
The month of March has taken someone who’s dear.
Got one week left ‘til the end of the month
And I’m holding my breath, yeah; I’m watching my back.

Light shines on the young and pretty.
Took too much shit now I’m feeling dizzy.
She asks me if I’ve got any trees,
I really don’t know what you mean.

The world is dead; it’s been dead for a while,
Some disagree; they’re still in denial.
It’s not easy living amongst the dead,
Affectation is what they value in the land of corpses.

Was on a mission to find a bag,
On the west side and I have to cross town.
The gate is locked; I can’t see anybody.
I’m thrust back into a dark scene of which I’ve seen plenty.

Light shines on the young and pretty.
Took too much shit now I’m feeling dizzy.
She asks me if I’ve got any trees,
How come you never say what you really mean?


Bio

[highlight color=”” rounded=”no” class=”” id=””]Austin Brookner[/highlight]has had short stories, poetry, and articles published in the journals Mad Swirl, The Carpathian Health Resort, Earl of Plaid, The Journal of Experimental Fiction, and Bleacher Report, and he was shortlisted for the 2016 Erbacce Poetry Prize.