Bernadette

bern

 

I sit in bed beside you, shearing,
Heating pad set to medium;
You say I couldn’t handle more.

You’re looking for work.
I’m reading about poets in
Monochrome.

Meanwhile, your fingers ricochet
Like ants across the keyboard;
Pfizer has some jobs in La Jolla.

I don’t want to reach over and fuck you
Nor use my teeth to puncture your pliant neck,
How glorious to be at peace

Despite all the canned blue passion
Radiating my brain, our out-there gray
Lives, like the promise of snow.

Pain always produces logic, which is
very bad for you. That’s not my line
But it’s a good one and applies here;

Women are bred for pain, they’ve got it
In them. The trick is to realize not everyone
You think is a woman is, my friend. It is dark

Now. The weather report predicts snow overnight
And it is rare the weather report is wrong
Anymore. Four to six inches. This poem

Is about fucking. Or not fucking. Or refusing
To write in bedclothes
with blood.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 132

IMG_1527.JPG

	pusha t & kenny g 
	i saw what i saw 
	at the new museum
	while arranging tea

that she side of a ride
she adds the hole unplugs 
a baguette places she her who
both traditional and a woman 
a baguette rubs a plastic container 

	was i always looking 
	for a father when i -- 

bottle spurts from play
bottle spurts from place
her head a sketch romance 
woman in the video licks 
video femme fatales 

	reading the depictions 
	and the woman in her legs

the piece of her liquid bottle 
spurts from a traditional sexual slavery
light readings sugar a performance

Donegan gags catches milk 
in her legs and lip gloss and unplugs
a study of the 1970s licks the woman 
catches a piece a girl a saddle


Sources:
- “Cheryl Donegan.” Wikipedia. N.p.: 
	Wikimedia Foundation, 21 Dec. 2015. Web. 5 Feb. 2016.
- Donegan, Cheryl. “Head.” 
	Vimeo, 16 Dec. 2010. Web. 7 Feb. 2016.
- Donegan, Cheryl. "Poets meeting, Kenny G and Pusha T" 
	Instagram, Dec. 2015. Photograph. 7 Feb. 2012.

“The Summer’s Over, Jack Spicer!” by Matthew Dickman

And Paris, France,
is still Paris, France,
though we've never been there together
but might
if life were a little longer
and no one ever invented knives.
I am crossing the bridge again
and the city is behind me being rescued
or being destroyed 
with a leaf on the end of a branch
turning maple-syrup brown. 
The first one. The summer's over,
Jack Spicer, and I 
have turned my collar up against the wind
and health insurance, the clouds
and blue jays, against the gangbangers
and insufficient funds. It's getting colder.
We're turning from wheat beers to Stouts, becoming
our fathers again, our exhausted
uncles, bruising our knuckles
against the tavern walls
and young mothers, we're showing
up for work, we're blessing 
the promise of ice and snow and football to come
like the Israelites did with the sand, 
the gold, and the insects.
It's raining, Jack Spicer, and I miss
Matthew Lippman. He's walking 
through an alley in Boston,
his beautiful hands and shoulders, his wife and daughter
at home. His heart beating up 
his body like a heavyweight, the nose broken,
the ribs broken—
I'm not ready!
Kiss me, take your legs and make a belt
of stars around me,
be my winter coat, my sobriety and bodega.
The oceans are getting blue
and the oysters are getting ready. Soon
we can cover the table with newspapers, with the faces
of senators and crossword puzzles,
the oysters
spread out over the sports page,
we can open the hard shells
and slip the cold
soft bodies into our mouths. We can drink
white wine and make a kind of Pacific 
out of lunch. I want to lie around 
the room with your jeans 
flung over a chair. I want to eat ice cream
and have my older brother back.
The summer's over, Jack,
and all the waitresses
are putting on their black tights like a funeral
of knees, the bartenders are wiping down the brass, the waiters are drawing out 
their lines of cocaine
like long strings of silk, pure white and perfect.
I have crossed the bridge
into a Paris that doesn't exist. Really,
I'm in Portland,
the summer's over and the last of the breweries
are being pulled into the sky, becoming
lofts, getting roof-top gardens for surgeons and all their beautiful brides.

From Matthew Dickman’s “Mayakovsky’s Revolver”

John Ashbery

IMG_6919

Reading Ben Lerner from behind
Without Ben Lerner's express written consent
I am Ben Lerner "noctilucent"
Against Ben Lerner's particular ass 

The pedals of the tricycle in Ben Lerner's front yard
     haven’t rotated, felt reciprocation in months 
But nonetheless, here I am, Ben Lerner
Atop Ben Lerner, concerned about Death
All tucking away the c-word from an old,
     untitled Ben Lerner poem,
     an even older poem by Wallace Stevens

From Ben Lerner's mind 
To Ben Lerner's mouth 
And into, and onto, Ben Lerner's
     night-blooming genera.

wikipedia poem, no. 46

was first performed at Sweet Basil, New York City, in January 1984.

wikiA

Characters

FEBRI, Blank Australian

APARTURE, transhuman

MR MASHFOR, 38

[With each other and performinum pane as transubstantiate, APARTURE is stralian ahead. Held consciously, non-refundiary, item slots of inside with other cyclists of the son, MR MASHFOR. Meanwhile, FEBRI, the Blank Australian, watches.]

APARTURE. Belief perhaps tradable contained the world fundable to sons as must seem in you and performing sexwork it be one of the bodies.

MR MASHFOR. Backwell and Peter in the financial contact fabrile friend of failure for the high-class.

APARTURE. Prostitude astride being into beginning at last expectant of concerns absurdities the will of transubstantiation.

MR MASHFOR. Slots of could — foundry while her eldest pieceful heart stabs the basis. Backwell at logical unity; anything. Prasetyo was stated and given as to supernature
and not the helmet. He was formerly cease. The idea, but in the “little form,” being virtually somewhat transmogrified.

APARTURE. A player. What transubstantiates. Heirloom allowings. As Four-sided Stephen, I sex work among wishes, markable equip both, with the item slots of theologians
about rites at their transmissions. Select this.

[MR MASHFOR takes it and drinks.]

APARTURE. Invisitors in the limitations of.

MR MASHFOR. [Putting down the cup] Raid! To explain itself as an infect of insects or supernatural — inappropriately cold. Point wishes, whom god or essentification is new, appoint wholly requires its regards. This meant-one limited inappropriate. He was at Cana and this signification followed by theologians and powers of postulate for in the void storage strips it be.

APARTURE. Febri, in one truth concept an artist, named against its converse, but this signification enchanted the transplayer. It was charging into the Four-Sides imagined by investors or invisitors.

MR MASHFOR. The god’s person directions were a natural not. Equip both with other physical bodies, some rare number — 11,200? — and an attributable conception of the life ways. In a charged meaning virtually ceases and expect this signification is illnessed you, and the Blank Australian [He looks up at FEBRI, seated at the stand] carries on.

APARTURE. A brightly say, Febri, the financial cough transmission prayer characters, including whatever they may be on, Mr Mashfor, one greater possibility is commune that school. Nining it spurs a quo. Cease! The idea is but authoritances, markable to family and including some rigor.

MR MASHFOR. [Looking down at his palm, oozing a thick ochre] He was deterred of the physical contrasted at Cana. A third child — with other manity — anything, the general transame goes, being the same who can concern and not postulate for typical laws the metamorphosis typical of this converse beside a container shopped for gold.

APARTURE. As police, as metamorphoses. Type exceptions. [He mimes typing, ties a knot quickly around his neck]: A substantiation of these people. Using it and performing and — Febri — there must be a human name inasmuchas we are reassurrently spoken, played about with, limited to be bright, containers equipping both, with other eligible sadness.

FEBRI. Where as a quo ceases to experience true converses meant for heart transplay, the absolute either will transcend all remaining Poles. With other marketable function of money somewhere in my transAmerica.

APARTURE. The indirected food to supernatural not before. Mr Mashfor now [pointing] a god’s natural transition. No longer all transubstantiation. He was stimulated, Four-Sided and will serve player as a charismatic. God’s named in one like unites at definitions of containers. Raid loot and Peter of the miraculously from that which equips both wills.

wikipedia poem, no. 28

IMG_2503

husband
  a 
terrible father
      regretful      sex drive
flattened, stripped out memory
       chromosomes 
       shredded
paranoia, fear 
     a 
       bad 
    sore throat 
throat 
        throat 
          throat 
throat 
  throat 
throat 
    throat 
        throat 
throat 

     throat 
throat 
throat 
throat 
throat 
throat 
throat 

     throat 
throbbing parenthetical 
    hands
	this headache
bad husband
a terrible father
         regretful, full of sex 
drive
flattened, stripped out memory
chromosomes shredded
         paranoia, fear 
      a bad breath testicular cancer
amputated this is not 
a 
poem
     	sat at the computer 
     leg 
      or foot
   a very bad 
sore     out of
memory
chromosomes shredded
     paranoia, fear 
        
     beer belly 
          
bad husband
a terrible 
father
    regretful, full of sex drive
  flattened, stripped out memory
  chromosomes shredded
   paranoia, 
fear 
a bad sore 
throat 


parenthetical 
hands
    	this is 
          not a 
     poem
	sat at the computer with 
this 
  is not a 
poem
     lack of regretful, full of 
sex 
       drive
          flattened, 
       stripped out 
memory
chromosomes 
shredded
paranoia, fear 
       beer 
      belly 

      bad husband
a terrible father
regretful, 
         full of regretful, 
  full of regretful, full 
of sex drive
flattened, stripped out memory
chromosomes 
shredded
paranoia, fear 
      a bad 
breath testicular cancer
      amputated 
   leg or foot
a 
          very bad sore 
       throat 

        throat 
      throat 
    throat 

throat 
        throat 
  throat 
     throat 
         throat 
    
throat 

         throat 
throat 
         throat 

          throat 
      throat 
          throat 
throat 
     
      throat 
     throat 
         throat 

a poem
    	sat 
at the computer 
    with his 
     is 

  lack 
of 
      sex 
      drive
  flattened, stripped 
out memory
chromosomes shredded
      paranoia, fear 
       a bad husband
        a terrible father
regretful


shredded
paranoia, fear 
      bad 
breath testicular cancer
          amputated leg or foot
a very 
bad 
husband
a terrible father
regretful, full of sex 
flattened, stripped 
out memory
chromosomes 
     memory
chromosomes 
shredded   
 a bad 
         breath testicular cancer
         amputater with his 
 throat 
         	sat at the 
computer this headache
  bad husband
      a 
   terrible 
father
           or foot
     a 
       poem       
    hands
	this is 
not a 
       terrible father
regretful, full of 
      sex 
drive
        flattened, 
stripped 
out memory
chromosomes 
   
  hands
    	this 
        
         or foot
          
  hands
	this headache
bad 
sore     	sat 
at 
   the computer 
    flattened, 
        
  
         or foot
   a very bad husband
         a terrible father
       regretful, full of sex 
  
          throat 
throat 
   a terrible throat

terrible news

her near warmth in the bed beside
had gone down blonde, but beside 
me now — her broken english 
in pieces on the hardwood floor

in this home  her home  the decorative 
grammar tied back against the white wall
paint bubbling under the low sun
on the sullen sill
an immigrant  here

something  a dark dirty brown  darts by
leaps and sprays I’m asleep again  my
back pierced through with her bed spring

the sun is coming from outside  she is gone 
my sweat  mine  punctuated by the phone call
terrible news.

wikipedia poem, no. 26

IMG_2292

ONE

    distraught tunic. Does anyway: The HUGE society where…), 
    must be written elsewhere…), 
must 
  be written elsewhere m&w status/attributes, 
(so which, 
$ —> 
  effect?) (a 
   ward 
   against that 
     type of man.) (Perhaps the thing—we’ve resigned 
          ourselves as the monastic social mover, 
    major 
  reeling about their physical 
striation, internal/etc. “Blue/white collar,” 
$ 
         of clothing 
black tshirt, boot 
cut denim jeans, corset, girdle. (Please not. How does 
this relate… are you freed of ourselves 
      in the 
monastic social/social thought 
          it does 
          anyway: The 
se 
      written elsewhere m&w 
start 
over, the 
“welcome lie” of 
    here: supra.

TWO

   trapped? Does it serve or 
         quantify & identify & identify 
     & identify & identify 
  & 
identify & identify & 
    identify & 
       identify & identify 
       & identify & 
      identify 
& identify & identify 
       & 
       identify 
       & 
identify & identify & identify & 
         identify 
& identify & 
    identify 
& 
   identify & identify & 
      identify 
& identify 
          & 
identify 
& identify 
      & 
identify 
  & identify 
& identify 
& identify 
& 
     identify & identify & identify & identify 
      & identify & identify & identify & identify & 
   identify 
    & 
       identify & 
identify 
& identify & identify 
  & identify & 
     identify & identify 
& identify & 
identify & identify 
         & identify 
      & identify & identify & 

THREE

enhances
   always 
       wears a black tshirt, the monastic 
social 
though 
          of thoughts  seemingly noble cause accoutrement. I’m 
the thing 
    in black tshirt, their 
physical estranges in 
          the 
   monastic protein straction 
with 
REAL BIOLOGICAL IMPERATIVE. 
(∴Terrorism 
  is 
  a vis a vis a vis a vis a vis 
      a 
vis a vis a 
vis a 
          vis 
     a 
    ward against that which reflects change 
of suit, boot cut denim 
jeans, convers 
    present 
         of 
      here…), must 
be written 
elsewhere…), 
must be 
written elsewhere…), 
      must be written elsewhere? 
supra-fashion” 
freed or 
fought? Does 
  anyway: The 
      aped: Does thinking a ward 
against that reflect —> 
    What 
    reflects 
    ch ch ch

FOUR

         against 
        that reflect change quantify & identify & identify 
        will ever 
   choose 
  to some lie
          of death. (?) (a 
ward against that reflection of objects changed? Basic society 
    where from supra-fashio” free us 
          or 
trap us in ourself  Does 
to 
my relation 
   to 
always wear a 
        black tshirt, themselves in 
(a percent of a homogenous, monastic occupation 
    in their physical straight tunic. Does anything about the world; 
    my initial though: it 
   does this relation internal $ of here…), must 
    be 
  written 
      elsewhere…), must 
be written 
elsewhere…), must 
  be written 
       elsewhere? supra-fashion?) (a ward to 
define the 
  monastic social thought 
it 
     is a 
          vis 
        a vis ward against the positive

FIVE

play against 
      that 


it does 
       that for 
      men.) (Perhaps this relation,/internal/
     collar,” 
      $ of 
   clothing, 
supra-fashion?) 
(6?) that for men, 
the point to 
      define? + bands 
   of G4 
will ever, 
   the “welcome lie” of G4 
          choose 
       to define
the 
     monastic social thought how other my relation! 
     A distractions 1,2&3 (theoretical stations with 
REAL BIOLOGICAL IMPERATIVE. 
∴ Terrorism is to this 
        relational collar of 
the choice 
        to define themselves 
to define
      bands of 
a homogenous, 
          monastic social stranger

wikipedia poem, no. 8

photo (1)

above their offspring they are usually solitary 
male sun bears occur in standing sites 
consist mainly of fallen hollow logs
some are usually solitary

male sun bears occur in standing sites consist mainly 
of fallen hollow logs but some are usually solitary male 
sun bears occur in standing sites consist mainly of fallen logs
but some are active at night for short periods
     
bedding sites consist mainly of fallen hollow logs but some 
are active at night for females with cavities underneath fallen hollow logs 
but some are usually solitary male sun bears occur in trees 
when they do not

Who Is Not Me But a Metaphor

It’s OK
Say it
No
Out loud  

Good, good
Next time yr held
Or perhaps holding — that
Core warm brand of love
— Say it, again
Just above a whisper

It’s OK
Say it
To the sea wind
To the cheap crumpled bed sheets
          by whom?
To that masterfully grown blood orange
          you’re about to peel and lick
Say it
And you shall be freed.