Scott Thomas Outlar

Scott Thomas Outlar (1980) hosts the site 17Numa.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, live events, and books can be found. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Scott was a recipient of the 2017 Setu Magazine Award for Excellence in the field of literature. His words have been translated into Afrikaans, Albanian, Dutch, Farsi, French, Italian, Kurdish, and Serbian. His radio podcast, Songs of Selah, airs weekly on 17Numa Radio.

Homeward Bound 

I sang to my Father

on his deathbed.

He had not spoken a word

in days, cancer-ridden,

organs collapsing, high on morphine,

but I knew he could still hear me.

I sang a song

from a book I’d written

years earlier during a particularly

good time in my life, and this,

being a particularly dark time,

seemed like the right time

to balance the dualistic energies.

I don’t think

I gave such considerations

that much thought

at the time; I was just sad

and wanted to sing, wanted

my Father to hear my voice

in a deep bass tone

that mirrored his own.

I sang a song called Home.

I sang it with all my soul,

as a goodbye note

to the most important person

I have ever known.

Return of the Fission

Prometheus tasted the fire

on the tip of my tongue,

too explosive to steal,

and he wept like a broken god

hanging on the galactic cross

as the sky lost all light,

dimming under the weight of darkness,

waiting for the next eruption

while space folded inward upon itself

into a state of entropy.

 

I only exhale

when the goddess begs for warmth,

and my breath is nuclear

in a field of salted earth…

planning to erect pillars in her honor

as the heavens roar

and the blanket of oblivion

stretches out to cover us in kisses of absolution.

 

Two fish swim through the ocean above us,

pissing wine from the barrel of Aquarius,

and Dionysus dances in maddened revelry,

cackling along with the chaos

of our orgasmic frenzied fervor

as the focus of my two eyes is shattered…

the blinded orbs roll back in my head

to touch a zero-point ascension –

a crescendo, a climax, a cancer,

a new wave cometh to burn.

Of Sand And Sugar

delicate and deliberate

soft

these spells take time

the last granule

of sugar

its texture scratching

your tongue

my tongue

our tongues are melting

one more grain

of sand

its hour

passing

overturning

history is repeating

Sweet Tooth

Look me in the eyes

when I sing to you

The same way I turn mine away

when you’re screaming

There are aliens in the air tonight

that don’t know the meaning of fear

If there is sugar hiding under the rocks

I will hunt it

And gnaw on every upturned stone

with my front teeth

Eternal And Infinite

Are those stars

or the headlights of a car?

O my dear,

we are all just deer

staring at God.