Ariana Reines

Wikipedia Poem, No. 530

W530

“I felt very human.” Ariana Reines

Driving 80 down the Turnpike, I begin typing into my iPhone:

I’m obsessed with petri curls
UV fancy s longways
Transfixed a Paver
Sears zebrawood w they do but know
What babe brand r u
Burning steel
Fine particles panicked began priests
W us Celine too

They do fast response day
Evict to satisfy Rhys speedster cat us B
Are white judges like war paint
Revved into nz taxes to pick up frenzy navigate
I have Mercedes Benz C 240 black
Is detected bet I hate the NRA

Wizards Fall

Wikipedia Poem, No. 501

parenthetically
a mean kind of english
wreccan driven out
outcast elend misery
reflecting one’s genetic survival
instinct outcast misery miserly

development of meaning
a sorry state in vile dallag erman
the old english drive
driven out punished person
exiled and remarkable
a strong sense of the vile

drive them out who strive for natural gifts
our vile reflection senses its spirit lift

Dear Poets

amelia-sm

.

FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM
FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM
FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM

FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM
FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM
FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM
FORM I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FORM

..

FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD
FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD
FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD

FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD
FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD
FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD
FIELD I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIELD

FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE
FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE
FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE

FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE
FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE
FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE
FIGURE I don’t want to tell you how to do your job
I don’t want to tell you how to do your job FIGURE

§, by Ben Lerner

Now to defend a bit of structure: beeline, skyline, dateline, saline—
now to torch your effluent shanty
so the small rain down can rain. I’m so Eastern that my Ph.D.
has edible tubers, my heart a hibachi oiled with rapeseed. I’m so Western that my Ph.D.

can bang and bank all ball game, brining the crowd to its feet
and the critics to their knees. Politically speaking, I’m kind of an animal.
I feed the ducks duck meat in duck sauce when I walk to clown school in my clown shoes.
The Germans call me Ludwig, bearer of estrus, the northern kingdom’s
professional apologist. The Germans call me Benji, the radical browser,
alcoholic groundskeeper of the Providence Little League. All readers of poetry

are Germans, are virgins. All readers of poetry sicken me. You, with your Soviet Ph.D.
and Afghan tiepin. You with your penis stuck in a bottle. And yes, of course, I sicken me,
with my endless and obvious examples
of the profound cultural mediocrity of the American bourgeoisie.


from Ben Lerner’s The Lichtenberg Figures