Sean D. Henry-Smith


Dirty Nails

eat me Infinity Serpent High Priestess of Sun the flowers we ate went straight to my hips
rosy red w/ sweet water linen draped i feel so squishy today maple molten orange rind i
awake when the Sun fills my mouth fills me w/ too many peaches my tongue is bumpy my
torso is garden a maelstrom of thistle kisses sdhs & i inhale light dirty pupil learns today
how mud purifies & an increased sensitivity to nightshades i lift my head from the train
tracks it is nice to sweat it reminds me that i am open whether i like it or not the conditions
will decide

calm down clam down

an anointing of sunlight & almond oil
i spoke to Sisyphus this morning & he said fuck this shit

a cyclical madness

the can worm the can fish the mercury line the retrograde

archival poisoning, brazen ashen — i am the earthworm :)

a new threshold a new pain balance & good god almighty the beet drip for your smoothie

i’ve wasted a lot more time than necessary looking for the tools
they’ve always been right before me

they’ve always been right in my hand


me resplendent me repentant me repugnant
fattening & sickening: it’s me again
the milk drown the milk drown

separatist for survival
the mile swallow the tar fall the curve curve
curve the night life the night show all
windows open

gargle the milk drown fight back the milk
drown spit back the milk drown

several fistfuls of moths in my belly now
sumac shift cloud drive the fall water
i can reverberate morning how many mornings i don’t mean to interrupt, but have you seen
the moon? how many moon falls how many nettle bellies
in midst of misty carcass nibble; the crows too must eat
don’t bark at me motherfucker, i live here
the grey crawl the moon shimmer i love you, publicly the light peak the leaf fight still learning to
wield these weapons w/ you

hidden in milkweed to spy on your father
adrift in goldenrod; an uncovering w/ you
assisting the decrescendo
it has been a wonderful September & I love getting to know you

“kill your politicians & go outside”



SEAN D. HENRY-SMITH is a poet and photographer currently living and laboring in Syracuse. His first chapbook, Body Text, is available via New Delta Review. You can find him online at @surrealsermons and