Posts tagged: poem
Using your fingers count your ribs, this is the most personal accounting.
A bruise is an evolving poem that edits away.
Bones have memory but cartilage forgets.
Muscles have no History but Nowness.
You’ll never know all your nerves
And none of your organs will ever know you.
for me twitter is, at its best, a collaborative poetic experience.
This is a gif
A gif that animates forever
Lookit that gif. Look at it.
That capybara,
forever.
That capybara chillen like that forever.
Lookit his nose sniff and his bro chew in the back there.
It all keeps happening.
A gif is like a god caught on loop
Choose your gifs wisely and your gods wiserer.
He is earning every comforting itch of his butt
Forever
You could close your browser and come back
He’ll still be here for you.
You’re welcome.
(Source: magicalnaturetour)
Those of you who like my writing here but don’t follow me elsewhere might like my latest “True For Tuesday” at my ‘home’ blog wherein i riffed off of a poem that quoted me responding to a microfiction about drones.
Jeremy Wood + Boris, GPS Drawing
Boris was taken out for an after dinner run-around with the GPS receiver. He managed to freely explore all four corners of a nearby field and in doing so, it appears that he was running around in the shape of another dog.
dogs running in the shape of dogs running in the
shape of dogs running in the shape of dogs running
in the shape of dogstars orbiting in the shape of
doggalaxies drifting in the shape of dogs running in
the shape of dogs in the shape of turtles in the
shape of dogs all the way down.
listen guys a star collapsed in my hand like,
i wasn’t holding a star, that’s fucking
stupid
i’m saying like there was a star INSIDE my hand
and inside there it collapsed so there’s this black hole
in my hand now
great for masturbation, sure. Look but
please please don’t go staring into my hand
so seriously
i implore you not to stare into the abyss [in my hand]
i mean, the things i’ve done there, in the abyss, in my hand
[see line 7]
or, A New Yorker Editor’s Incidental Poetry
Itals Synthetic
Talk
Synthetic talk
Synthetic Talk Synthetic
Talk Synthetic
Talk the difference between gossip and synthetic talk is
This:
An indent in History
Adolescence
Parody defacement
Defacement defacement
Defacement
No Authority
“Up against the wall…”
As in “…motherfucker”
As in where the writing is on
As in when I am king you will be
As in our abstractions too will lead us to
As in as if by popular refrain and embedded orders
As in where fucking most resembles politics
As in and vice versa
As in all fall
As in before it’s too late
Just give me a woman
Dressed as a cat
And I’ll be happy forever.
Just give me a woman
Dressed as the winning lotto ticket
And I’ll be happy, for a time.
Just give me a woman
Dressed as a weapon
And I’ll clean up my act.
Just give me a woman
Dressed as a bee
And I won’t be shy.
Just give me a woman
Dressed as Subcomandte Marcos
And I’ll go fetch my gun.
Just give me a woman
Dressed as the end
And I’ll never make it.
Just give me a woman
Dressed as the Conqueror Worm
And I’ll be damned.
To the shower:
it’s just hard sometimes and I figured you would understand
To the jacket rack at K-Mart:
America’s been hard on you
To the plastic bag caught on my feet:
don’t look at me.
To the dog toy:
I’ll try to explain to you later but first you’d need to know my philosophy on jealousy and betrayal
To the door jamb:
I accept your apology
To the scaffolding on 6th Avenue:
we’ll always have 38th Street
To the yogurt:
Sshhh, what just happened is between you and me.
