Collage Burning Landscape

Ridgewood, Sunset

what’s even worth painting anymore? all the nerd
girls in big striped sweaters warming bleach moms
gym guys in slate sleeveless tees and they make
shoes out of knit polyester now tight pants loose
pants clouds bodies minds bricks piled up high hair
gel on a young couple four hundred feet away
i’m worried about their screen time is their crib
flammable age sex location trap beats the problem
with not liking anyone is you always have lots of
company imagine for a moment being a sixteen
ounce poland spring bottle the thin crinkling plastic
threaded neck choking hazard threaded cap
arctic-nothing impermanent black they don’t do
decaf here i listen to the gods who do not have my
best interest at heart is it ok for me to smile at the
incandescent young lesbians so in love i’m
repeating myself my recycled edges ache at the
thought of appearing a fanboy Eileen Myles in
my hands my eyes my neurons my hair dirty teeth
rotten and unbrushed like i said: no one’s looking
out for my brief colors i strain to love anyone but i
fear a relapse into hate for everyone hocking trace
antagonism — like me i’m afraid i prefer living in the
cracks and this world powerwashes squatters rats
milkweed moneywort morning glory like us — there
i go dreaming again self-flagellating my verse-thin
flesh which is bulletproof if bullets are tsetse flies
i am genetic i am bodied and disposable if extant
— there is a cloud there is the gelic memory of sun
leather loafer real burning cigarette appropriately
scented altar i don’t care what your mother named
you i will love you anyway without me.

Artifacts of Reference, No. 56

New Mexico State Gem

What is your name? Never know. Hunched, picked off
a pair’a you—neither crow nor winch. A thing
god backlit in neon after blessing us with neon. And I
know what it means as a poet to carry this heavy basket—faint
mason, invisible stevedore, passage of time, neither good nor right.

I am fearful for firm and misunderstood things—
the spume, smiling inside the gargoyle, cultural forb—
they’re no different as carrion ghouls. Time
has done miserable things with light—he waves no
staff nor hauls no sack of turquoise shards. Quick!

He’s about to make a break for it. He’s about to windlass
Into the clouds, that one’s fancy. The crocodile climbs
many painted ladders. No weighted, pretty purple halos
ringing the eyes of these wordy wraiths—embrace
not knowing your name. I struggle to pull down the old crucifix.

Topless in Purple Gloves

Wikipedia Poem, No. 946

one could not cope
with his no one could
not ask for his no one

could know every human
name every name every
human poem whomever

however one copes with his
freedom chantal joffe i did
no one not once ask for ever

human nature asks for every
possible poem in the grief of
human names every human

every flagrant permutation
if names exist at all ask for
his no one could grieve

ask for his
no one could
ask for his
no one could

Topless in Purple Gloves

Wikipedia Poem, No. 945

praise the lord

if names exist at all
like the intellectual property
of men topless
in purple gloves then
i did then i did not
no one could not ask for
no one could not hunger for
intellectual property could not
top like intellectual property
the burning wick
chantal joffe did not ask for this
no one could
no one could not
all the intellectual property
of burning men

Over 11 Mirrors (Chantal Akerman)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 942

the long, static sea champion
from genre protographer since les rendez-vous
spare a list of destroying championeer

by j hoberman’s
doniol-valcroze
second common champion
we were women then: ten minutes
cast digital options

april first two thousand
and nine inch guide in long, vital
akerman’s most info about her
two or three thienen sound editor of cinema’s top chef
and andy warhol akerman’s jeanne dielman and hauntingly screens
her mark is and aesthetically idiosyncratic with view from genre
the routing screen

in her babette marble
out the flick, whose new contest
works the destroyer character
singular work time commerce
it’s france that inspires works of the
arch cart login and artists
like big night and director archive drowning, vital akerman

on film
on short takes
on april first two thousand
and sixteen chantal akerman
conversation provocation of little chores
in chaos is now about compassion duo
david and the moment
the decade proves which exposed impending doom
the director
or the belgian in long top uncompiled…

Sitting on the Bus (Ellsworth Kelly)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 941

movement within the frame movement
within the rods and cones? what a kind
blue green red morning to magnolia and fresh cut
peripheral systems a place to sit a place to second
guess time aches backward thicket synaptic cleft
slow pink throb of traffic stalled movement
within the chittering frame of traffic
within the blue green red morning man entertaining still

extra edges slumber breaker
today everyone cones and rods time
what a patient thicket synaptic pink throb
of traffic stalled bus within
the frame of movement of traffic stalled

entered
the question
lines and points? what kind of
camouflage causes
the eye to magnolia?
what a kind man. did
ellsworth kelly want to magnolia
and fresh cut
the peripheral systems in this place
to see the other man the blue green red man
jersey cut & hungry grass
seventy degree slide backward the frame
traffics in movement within the frame
the kind man the frame neuters
bus movement stalled by rays
and fresh aches return sharply through one frayed speaker

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Doom Shirt

Wikipedia Poem, No. 939

The Ray Ziggurat, 2019

actually exists, actually exists
actually lives statements us with joy.
and where deep in terminological.
for us a sense of being associated.
us with.
prompted to slip in a scene taking longingly of

the being not a bees where deep
in favor of sun lovecraft: a scene taste of
solar energy, us to slip into a meditation.
us with joy. and where deconstruct or reconstruct
or anam cara, which demeanor liquid with joy.
and starhawk. it emerges from taste

of essence in favor of the being place
deep in terminology forms, forms
forms, forms, forms, forms
forms, forms, forms
forms
for

My Webby-Award Nominated Poem

Wikipedia Poem, No. 934

Cadmium Yellow, No. 11, 2019

boundary between gaza and israel
the boundary between gaza and israel
the last year on the boundary
between gaza and israel the great march
of the great march of the last thought
on the last year of the last thought
on the last year of the boundary
between gaza and israel the great
march of the viral instant
e smoke from tear gas
went viral almost instantly the shirtless aed
slingshot and flag in hand
flag in hand flag in hand flag in hand flag
in hand flag in hand flag in hand flag in
hand flag in hand flag in hand flag in hand flag
in hand flag in hand flag in hand
it sparked comparisons
with a painting from the european romantic period
and made him an instant icon of the palestinian resistance
of rosewood and colored dyed through veneer
polished bronze pu coating collection privateel
marquetry of rosewood and colored dye
throught veneer polished bronze pu coating
primeval marquetry rosewood and colored dyethrough veneer
polished bronze peen you willionaires
and the inability to get a bigger peen
you want a bigger peen
you want a bigger longer longer longer longer
longer longer longer longer longer longer longer
longer longer longer longer longer longer longer
lo to the sly and sometimes cold-hearted nature of pussy
cats the merciless and sometimes cold-hearted nature of them
as sculptural lighting the merciless nature of pussy cats
as sculptural lighting as cold-hearted time
nature of pussy cats they have captured a pipe 1929
studio job’s cast-bronze sculpture plays with the same idea
hat all visual representations are inherently abstract
it is neitherinherently abstract it is neither a table nor a table
nor a table nor a table nor a table nor a table nor a table nor
a table nor a table nor a table nor

Sources:

Cloudbank Intensus

Wikipedia Poem, No. 930

When the sky opens: Ice cream
Cloudbank

silver eyes hung in kohl there
is where you mean by sky conquerer
your poem its peppered nacre

variegated really your eyes do
their many crushed blue tiles
too much of an aerated thing

dispersed sky strange good sky
peppered thing long black eyes
hung with magick rhyme yourselves


after Kazim Ali’s Explorer