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Month: July 2018

Untitled, 2003 (of which there are actually several, it turns out)

Untitled, 2003 (of which there are actually several, it turns out)

This poem is based on a work by Marcel Dzama entitled Untitled 2003.

Nurses grow poppies—

or tomatoes.

A nurse grows,

and there are lions and boars—

birds of prey—

they have each other’s bodies—

men with feline faces and breasts

under the bristles of hogs—

they are the aphids on our tiger lilies.

Pluck a Chinese dragon from

the branches of your staring poppy/tomato plant;

tell me that it does not swoon!

for it is beneath your iron grasp, and—

that smug smirk of yours;

why do you detest nature?—

give me the zodiac animal, and

I shall save him from the jeers

of your raucous bulbs. Go—

grow your flowers elsewhere, sweet nurse;

there is no call for talking fruit.

To My Readers

To My Readers

There’s a tentacle monster on my ceiling.

He’s a knitted lime ball with wiggling appendages

and one large brown eye, half-lidded.

I could call him Weary,

christening him after his attitude.

He looks into my cluttered room,

the disheveled piles categorically sorted,

the bed unmade and covered in crumbs,

and passes judgment in silence.

If I turn him around

his bored gaze will roll down Tremont St.

where the light from the Loews Theatre

casts red undulations over my ceiling.

Did you know they turn the sign off

at 2:14 in the morning?

I don’t know when they turn it on.

Cool headlights file down Tremont

between hollow orange streetlights,

and, if it’s a Friday, cars will fill the three lanes,

people will fill the sidewalk,

and I will lie awake and listen to them shout.

;

;

After a long battle against striations

            his monitors gone to cloud

His keys are filled with ginger ale

            and his semicolons fallen off

Ive broken his latch

            and he burns my thighs

His battery lifes too short

            and that cocky frenetic screen winks at me

I might have salvaged him

            bound to his circuits by two years of companionship

but Ive newer machines to coddle

            so Ill immortalize my longtime companion

with the insincere punctuation from his board