Saturday, June 2, 2018

MAY (Your Day Be) VOGON

FRIENDS—

I hope you’re all doing well. Please forgive me if these Vogons are even vogoner than usual. They only reflect how unbelievable & discordant the world itself has become. 

You’ll be happy to know that I’m not in the throes of an existential crisis this year, so I don’t have any Summer Series planned. I do want to return to more serious essay-like pieces here— I keep wanting to do that but time & energy are not as abundant as they once were. I will try harder this summer to address some more concrete topics. Ie, i keep feeling like I should be writing more about the “trans experience” but I’m not sure what to say about it, or who even wants to hear about it. I know the “Successful Trans Narrative” is old news & people are hungry for the more shadowy & unsuccessful tidbits that go w/ all human narratives, even the ones about magical self transformative butterfly journeys!! 

So yeah, I’ll try to say some important adult-like things in the near future.

ALSO—Submissions are open for Octo Review #5. So far I’m ahead in art submissions & need more poetry, which is the exact opposite of how it usually is. I hope you all understand why I am expressly inviting more work from women, POC, LGBT… please don’t label me a “Lit Bro” or a “SJW”. I’m a Gen Xer & too old to be either one of those things. Thank you. (I’m just a person who loves poetry, art & equality for all)

****************VOGON************************************


How many scientists perish in plane crashes?

(I refuse anymore insect dialect on this topic!)

Start the elevator, Faustian underling
My rival must be equal or he’s no rival at all

This word has thorns
It’s resonating—a snake’s tongue
Soft sibilant & sexual

Alliterative afterburn—
   he’ll get his facts straight
    Or he’ll get knee-capped in
        Concourse A

0504:0875p

******

Copy Cat
Ditto Dog
Ersatz Emu
Forged Ferret
Ghostwritten Goldfish
Hijacked Hippo
Imitation Ibex
Jingoistic Jellyfish
Knock-off Kangaroo

Raise your hand if you remember Richard Scarry
If you wet your pants on the playground
If you dyed your hair “A Thousand Deaths” [Clairol #122]

All the people in Scarry’s stories were animals
I always wondered why I didn’t see warthogs
Shopping at the grocery store
Or orange tabbies driving cars

I probably wet my pants on the playground 100x
But I know I didn’t poop on the slide
Like Kevin (one of the Kindergarten twins)

That playground had monkey bars 
In the shape of a rocket ship
What bright equipment bores through your trauma!

(I only used Clairol #121 “Black”)

0504:0900p



*******

You were a bankrupt millionaire hotel mogul on 9/11
Maybe you’re not so far off the 34th Street masonry
I glimpsed as time lifted its veil that summer

Dynamite, I said
Looking at my cat’s legs
So faraway from their first 7 lives

I didn’t know she was sprinting for the Rainbow Bridge

& you hadn’t yet mounted the escalator
At the b0tt0m of the puffy Cheet0 bag

0504:0900p

********

Yo, gabapentin & porn don’t invite
The bright characters
Folded in Aramaic yoga poses

The arabesque origami
You sent to the moon
Sits folded on Salome’s desk

She gave you a headless grandchild
You didn’t know you wanted
Conveniently skipping that generation
You watched on the playground
                            from afar…

W/ binoculars
   & unclean thoughts

A world you can’t pause
   On its reel to reel meditation

Innocence & how to break it like wind wave bone code

I’m in an analog trance
Over (y)our clone, all (y)our motherless
Sequels,

Or what is rebooted for the sake of boo’s?
What ruins are we rebuilding
W/ no specs for a fireplace?

0507:1000p



**********

    I
a) raised
b) sat at
c) lowered
   the bar

Remember a couple years ago
When being an introvert was cool —
just for a moment— but long enough
For a bunch of extroverts I knew
To jump on the bandwagon

It doesn’t work the other way though
I can’t just claim to be an extrovert & not 
Drink myself silly trying to prove it

Mmmm… silliness…

***

Not the usual
Lo-fi park pigeon warble
But a soft, high coo

***

Rhapsodizing
Your mating rituals
In such heteroprogressive detail

At the expense
of the gay orgy option
I would’ve chosen

Above all of thee

Signed,

the Media©

Symbolically

0512:1200n

***********

ROSEANNE IN SPACE!!!

Having a tough time communicating
The truth is V Putin reads this blog
(only on radio & in this blog do I feel like an actual person)

The spy had to take a leak
If these poems sound like they were
Written by DT
It’s because he’s a dictator

I’m taking dictation w/ shaky wrists
Putting prayer back in the news
The Media has picked the slow lane
So it doesn’t miss its exit

Making changes to appeal to a broader audience
I don’t like a broad audience. Nor do I care
For a narrow one.
I’m looking for a deep audience, a bright
One.

*phosphene eye drops*

Green tea from now on  
Brain saturation leaves

I am an autotonsorialist
& even an autodentite
& surely an autodidact
Just not a girl named Autumn O’Beale

0512:1200n



***********
His Brain Left A Suicide Note Of Its Own

I give zero wild fuckberries
About your pyroclastic side hustle
Just dance w/ me
Put some Xymox on the phonograph’s
Rotary saddle & ride the disco darkness

Gentle pre laser gallop
Speaks to me in the unicursal language
Body to body w/out microbe swap
Minus the skin slip
[open bed sore from our efforts]

Since you became
A paranoid clairvoyant
I no longer hear your telepathic bluestreaks

But I can still see them
Forming in your frontal sky
Sea smoke thick into the nation’s heart
Mystical fog swirls—the ocean raising its hand
To take an implosive leak

Continental shelves—paperless,
Voiceless, lifeless — bend to chevrons
Of a lost war

        Nature’s ruling
Big suicide canvas, shoreline performance
     Emotional exhibitionism

My biggest weakness? Is expecting you to read
My mind.

You’re hired! You’re fired!
You’re pardoned! You’re free!

My greatest asset? 
I was always a female prince
Now I’m finally a male queen

Lovely. You’re hired.
You’re salaried.
You’re valued way above your potential,
And above the potential of the
Page of Pentacles who answers our phones

The job’s so simple
Even a Gen Xer could do it!

I’m sorry, Gen-what?

What? Oh, I must’ve been dreaming
But your skin looks thicker
Like your demeanor, your uncensored pie-hole

I quit.

I wasn’t born to feel good & I’m handling that better than ever

But how I wish it wasn’t so. I’m the kind
Of sponge that sops the tears
Of your overexertion,
       your distilled spirit,
           your inhaled prayers

Leaking onion-size tears, whole organs
Expelled by this sadness
Have your sham-wow handy
            your desiccants
                your trocar

When old people brag re: their grandchildren
What they’re really saying is
“Our children still talk to us. We didn’t fuck
Them up so much they refused our lineage. You?”

As with all things that frighten &
Confuse me
I like to take a direct approach—is that a hearse
In front of the WH??

      What all over my nerves?
           Mustard?
              Ash?
        Tiger scratches?

It stings like grid confetti
     hacked bits of civility
        beheaded honey bee

0512:1200n


***********

The Federal Anthem

Place your right hand
Over your bulging aorta

You’re a vision in pinstripes & stents

Will you whistle if I say France?

The Day After (propaganda)
The Morning After (pills)
Reagan Girls w/ hipbones & hair to the moon
Dead dry sex scrape

I heard everyone has a right brain
Over their heart

The right brain in each & every skull =
Heaven’s secret locale

the strung out Xmas lights of
Impermanence
       Mortal flickers of empathy
           On tunnel walls
Long graffiti speeches: oratory bombs

Lipstick the shade of a shoe print

I apply to be a spy
But who will hire me?
Russia knows how much I know about
America.
But I’m not the neighbor next door.
I’m not that girl anymore.

0518:0900p

*********

You said a beautiful word & I forgot
To hear it

Sabbatical, you called it
But the work was crippling

A happy fracture v. a bee’s wing wrung out like a washcloth

0518:0925p

(obligatory bee shout out!)

***********

Cooties

From Hot Zone 4

Set free on the city bus

Uber lice

Or ebola porter

Carrying the bomb that once

Vandalized the moon from here

0518:0925p

******

QUSS WORDS

All quandaries
  Qualify you to quote
     the Queen of Cups
Who calls from quarts
   Of quinine
& questions everything
W/in a quatrain of her last quokka

0518:0925p



********

A song that sounds like a cheap little trinket
Or a lisping elephant
Creeps on round black feet 
Into the egg-shaped office

Agenda neutral
Disgraced congressman Wiener
Dick-pics his way to the podium
“I want to take your guns, he says
“And also your phones.”

The head of household carries the one
You duplicitous little troll!
Now I know you’re Kuh-guh-baya
(pronounced “cagey bee”)

No, it isn’t a leap year
But leap we will through hoops
Not covered by mood insurance
At no cost to the
Homo nurse

0522:0950p

***********

But what is the rest?  58. 13. 69. 70
(year?  lottery?)

Mastectomy. Barometer.
Masonry degree.
Mr. Hysterical, radiation burns w/ inhaled glass
Particulate

He went nutso from the pain

A low threshold — to bear boredom
w/ majestic plumage!

0522:0950p

“Isn’t the plumage beautiful?”

“And I’ll smash your face for you, Yarblockos!”

***********


Once Upon A Laminated Continuum

I envisioned the Texas bbq
Where war criminals chained to their grills
Served the tired, wretched, poor & hungry

It hasn’t happened yet
But I still envision it (so it could)

What trope will twist through neo Judgment Day?
I see suicides.
A Trumptown massacree.
With radiant McNuggets, tweeteth the canary
Nevermore

[It’s audacious to hope
   We’ll get funding
     For the picture]

0530:1125a

**********

Knowledge means nothing
It used to be currency
But it’s everywhere now

We’re all fish searching
For that one perfect water molecule

It’s me looking for myself in the camera, taking
A photo of myself looking in the mirror
The new polyangular Narcissus

A pudding skin at evolution’s banquet
Dig in, asexual aphrodites

0530:1125a

[rain, rabbits, Russian spies
  R words are swords tomorrow
         Reversed
           Parked
        What an arc]



***************

Do angels have assholes?
I know they don’t have belly buttons
They’ve nowhere to put their gaze

So they live (as electricity) to serve

Don’t throw lunchables at Planned Parenthood &
Call it love

That little embryo
Spooled around an unbent halo
From fontanel to anal cave
Says

“Don’t profane my golden spine
With these stainless pincers

Close your lips
i don’t want to gather lint”


0531:1050a

Friday, June 1, 2018

Submit to Octopus Review #5

HEY THERE,

It’s that time again — time to send your most audacious art & writing for my inspection for The Octopus Review #5!!

Before i give you any sort of guidelines I just wanted to say a few things:

I know that when I submit my work to publications the editors will often specifically state that they need more work from women, people of color, and LGBT folks. I always wondered what this ‘submissions disparity’ looked like—

was it 70% male 30% female?

was it 69% white 31% other?

83% hetero 17% queer?

I ass-umed it would look something like the above when I started receiving work from people. But it’s actually even more disparate than I expected!

It looked more like —

95% male 5% female

98% white 2% other

90% het 10% queer (only because I know a lot of queers, though)

Now I feel like I must extend a plea for more submissions from ladies, people of color & queers. Do not read this as “I don’t want anymore submissions from white guys.”

White guys, I do not want you to stop submitting, I just want AS MANY submissions from ladies, etc…

I’m getting paranoid that I’ve been put on some iit bro list. (someone please tell me if I have so i can contest it). 

Also, what will I do now that The Octopus Review is doing so well? Will I upgrade it somehow? Will I gentrify & beautify it & switch from Blogger to Wordpress, or put up a neon pink background w/ turquoise fonts?

Will I join the cult of Instagram?

The answer is no. (I do want to join instagram, but I can’t right at the moment. You don’t need to know why.)

I will not be changing anything about the OR anytime soon. I base this decision on how much I hate it when the blogs I love get fancy makeovers.

I can’t tell you how many blogs I’ve loved & followed & looked forward to reading w/ my morning coffee & then hated after they got some notice and decided to “switch to a new format.”

I won’t do that to you yet, because I know how much you & your coffee depend on the current structure of the OR.

**************************

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:

Send me your most audacious poetry & art either by FB messenger or you can email me at vinwhitman@outlook.com

I’m still waiting for someone to send a poem in the style of e.e. cummings


Deadline is Jun 21, 2018 at 11:56 am


Friday, May 11, 2018

Please Submit to My Precious Darling Boutique 'zine

HEY THERE,

It’s that time again — time to send your most audacious art & writing for my inspection for The Octopus Review #5!!

Before i give you any sort of guidelines I just wanted to say a few things:

I know that when I submit my work to publications the editors will often specifically state that they need more work from women, people of color, and LGBT folks. I always wondered what this ‘submissions disparity’ looked like—

was it 70% male 30% female?

was it 69% white 31% other?

83% hetero 17% queer?

I ass-umed it would look something like the above when I started receiving work from people. But it’s actually even more disparate than I expected!

It looked more like —

95% male 5% female

98% white 2% other

90% het 10% queer (only because I know a lot of queers, though)

Now I feel like I must extend a plea for more submissions from ladies, people of color & queers. Do not read this as “I don’t want anymore submissions from white guys.”

White guys, I do not want you to stop submitting, I just want AS MANY submissions from ladies, etc…

I’m getting paranoid that I’ve been put on some iit bro list. (someone please tell me if I have so i can contest it). 

Also, what will I do now that The Octopus Review is doing so well? Will I upgrade it somehow? Will I gentrify & beautify it & switch from Blogger to Wordpress, or put up a neon pink background w/ turquoise fonts?

Will I join the cult of Instagram?

The answer is no. (I do want to join instagram, but I can’t right at the moment. You don’t need to know why.)

I will not be changing anything about the OR anytime soon. I base this decision on how much I hate it when the blogs I love get fancy makeovers.

I can’t tell you how many blogs I’ve loved & followed & looked forward to reading w/ my morning coffee & then hated after they got some notice and decided to “switch to a new format.”

I won’t do that to you yet, because I know how much you & your coffee depend on the current structure of the OR.

**************************

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:

Send me your most audacious poetry & art either by FB messenger or you can email me at vinwhitman@outlook.com

I’m still waiting for someone to send a poem in the style of e.e. cummings


Deadline is Jun 21, 2018 at 11:56 am