Wikipedia Poem, No. 816
Because therapy heals all worlds:
Welcome to Lotus Land.
the TSA Agents of the Mind
shoot back to zip me away from gnosis.
Their neon swims across my whimsy metrics
in the small, air conditioned room.
Whales tornado a hundred thousand phrenology busts.
Warm, oozing cherry wood wands my birdcage.
Me in the center as a campfire. Beeping.
That's why I abandoned the mast for swine.
There's too much good television now.
A speedboat mustn't consider sails.
Odysseus' men slither across their barnacled flesh.
A thousand Athenas for the taking.
I chase the abandoned speedboat
then give up the ghost.
Sacrifice can make me whole again,
says the whales.
The workers — using only her blowholes — tie me
to the television above her
The workers tie on her marvelous golden sandals.
This cool shade sweeps me.
You respond now.
This poem appears in Arielle Greenberg’s 2015 book “Slice” from Coconut Press. Her work is brilliant, please support her writing.
curators offer a variety of their subjective photography
the customer will have been satisfactorily abused and served
through technological advances in counting the service understands
people places approaches and circulation methods though we still
promise to never index works from information
the subjective photographs have been used to concatenate
and share xerophagiac critique since 1839
The service invents the mode of ideas, you approach them!
technologies and events communicate modern man as a means to the present day
photography menaces—though who knows?—to strive for ease-of-abstraction
serve a visually continuing world it will rain just look outside
“[T]his detachment… gave me a kind of vampiric energy, although I was my own prey.” Ben Lerner
I watch Picasso work
The granite blob of gray-blue
Into a void, if I said this out loud
He would spit in my mouth and
Curse my mother who hasn’t yet been born
Her arms are returning, an honest day’s work, I am quiet,
Sweat, sweet black eyes,
Longing, a gauntness as from a fountain like