FRIENDS,
Here are the rest of April’s Vogon poems. Sorry I’m not as organized as last year. This may be the last Vogon batch for awhile. I know writing Vogon poems doesn’t seem like a difficult thing to do, but it can have some surprising repercussions… I can’t say much about that, but if you are an astute reader you may get the gist…
…there can be a depletion of love & light & good feelings in the heart, lungs & chest. And one must take measures to replenish that light & love before one has the urge to hang onesself again. So off I go to do that (replenish, not hang) for the summer. I feel like this has been a success…
Look for changes in our cultural trends & values first. Then changes in our legal system.
And maybe I will do some new art now! You all deserve new art. Perhaps it’ll be Exegesis-themed! I think I’m going to mostly focus on DOT ART (stipples) from now on. Fuck watercolors.
Also… I am taking submissions for the final Octopus Review (to appear at this address). I’ll send out a proper call for subs soon though.
************
HYPNO GROG
The 1st dream I ever remember having
Was of a fire in our living room
I was less than 2, but to this day
remember how scared
I was to walk through the living room
that morning...
[And later I learned the flames weren’t there to dance
but to convert us to lisping homosexual hedonism!! It was decided my time
here would be a hell-chore & the fire roared & laughed]
…how it crisped the
innocent sponge of my brain
as it devoured furniture, floor & the neighbors’ dogs
[And later I wrote a poem about that dream &
it was printed in one of those boutique zines run by SJWs
(not FSWs)]
Next time my mom asks re: memories, I’ll ask: which came first the fire or the frying pan?
The rest of childhood was full of typical nightmares —
Showing up unprepared for tests,
naked of course
Running from bears or bullies on quickening sand —
In my teens I started dreaming what would happen in real life
Nothing big at first—
pictures of who I’d see at school that day & what they’d be wearing
Then dreaming Reagan’s announcement that he would bomb Libya & he did
(I didn’t watch the news in high school)
The “flying dreams” began after that — you know the ones
where you flap your arms & lift off,
unsteady on your spindly wings for a second, but soon
a pro at soaring above your awed
peers’ stylish hair-dos
Alighting for a spell on the municipal water tower…
In my 20s I was treated to vivid, cryptic sleep novellas
Adapted to Hollywood’s technicolor splendor
w/ sharp dialogue & plot twists that would make
Tarantino & King rip their scripts
Or else I dreamed of airplanes
crashing….1991 me & Kashmir dancing in a field when 2 planes
intersect overhead & start to wrestle for airspace
Pinning each other down, cartwheeling into clouds
Until the explosion; then fiery debris raining down
around us…. then bodies…
After that, a plane crashed in my bed every night
Sometimes a sudden nosedive,
Sometimes more dramatic
sputtering, faltering, folding wings to cockpit throat &
clutching pearls, then
dropping
from
the
sky
The 30s saw much editing of these epic dreams
Only snippets landing on my a.m. desk
I started dreaming I was eating things that were not food (a stapler,
crystals, coins.
Really munching down on them.
A subconscious reflex to a clenched jaw,
perhaps?)
On different nights — never in conjunction w/ the inedibles—
I dreamed my teeth were falling out. First one
wiggle & then each tooth loosening,
w/ frightening ease & delicacy, falling into my hand
till I had a necklace worth
(I was surprised to find out how many people have the loose tooth dream!)
For 40s dreamscape turned to SEARCHING…
SEARCHING, SEARCHING….
Big campuses, unfamiliar cities, crowded sidewalks
Huge hotels w/ catacomb hallways
SEARCHING for room numbers,
familiar faces, anything familiar really & finding only
blurry stuff
What number on that room?
What face on that friend?
And most frightening of all sometimes
I find I’ve searched my way through all this blurriness
to the very top of a structure
that may have started as a building
But is now made of paper clips & twist-ties & other
junk drawer sundries
There I stand on a matchbook plank
Miles above the ground & I have to figure out
how to get down w/out dying
I usually end up falling,
falling, falling…and staying alive in the landing
turning my spine just right that it won’t snap
using the meat of my hands & hips to absorb
the shock
(and here I would give anything to have a flying dream again!)
The most recent dream theme? TINY ANIMALS!!
Pre hurricane Irma,
I dreamt an infestation of tiny frogs w/
cockroach wings, such realistic
little hybrids DizzneyPixxxar should quit the game!
And after the hurricane, the infestation of tadpoles
on our patio reminded me of the dream
Last year dreamed our bunny
Was tiny as a humming bird, flying around my room And this week
darting in & out of the clover in our yard,
a bald eagle the size of a bumble bee!!
0418:0375a
 |
| One year ago this little tarantula-face came to live w/ us & turn us into mush |
********
EMBLEMISM
Will I be able to hear anything over this pain?
Were you right-handed? Wrong & long-armed?
This shoulder feels like it’s fired
Hundreds of rounds
His arm will hurt forever
No matter which life he enters
(okay. i think I understand)
0418:0375a
********
NEUROPATHY HAS AN ONGOING NARRATIVE
Negotiations, my shoulder shooting rounds, all through April
& March
(traveling backward, reloading & reloading)
The nuzzle of metal from
thoracic disc 9 & bullets lodging
in metacarpals every time
Raking shrapnel over backhanded palmistry
Eye contact w/ one wishful star, making itself available at this hour
Through the moon’s full blast of light pollution,
punctuated by a single peep-shaped cloud
I offer to shoot these internal closed circuit rounds
forever
With my sagging net of nerves, I offered
A lemniscate for future ammo through scapular real estate
& a gargoyle claw protruding from my shoulder
& a pinion in the radial nerve
& a misfire in the wrist
forever
Jesus was busy but smiled Happy Easter, my daughtery son.
Have an egg. And a star. And
a chocolate rabbit. And a fire arm.
0421:0412a
*********
u.u. cumming to a.a. meeting?
Let’s all just put it out there — We watch porn
That’s how they’re coming for us,
the hackers
I see you, Yulia & Tatianna
And I know your tits aren’t real
& neither is the rest of you
Let’s grow up about all this shit
No one cares about sex anymore
Sex has gone underground like Persephone &’ll return one day
in April of some year
& this moratorium on pleasure will be worth it
All this anti-natalism will flip history’s coin
(Jewish refugees ‘30s become Muslim refugees ’10s)
I will submit a proposal for genital updates. God & Steve Jobs’ ghost
will ponder & confer & greenlight
a new improved sexier sex, w/ no power differ
ential or misheard orgasms
ever again, amen
So said Lambert, Lambert
in his death throes
& I heard & understood from a thousand miles away…
…smashed my phone into more pieces
than any poet could
I’ve been doing a dangerous job, look at all these numbers
doing time
0428:0425a
*******
LIBERTAD
! Dios quilla a sous Borrachitas !
Today’s news stories are nothing
w/out extra ammo
More & more rounds of wtf-ery!
The best stories are round (not rhomboid
not equillateral)
The best stories are covered in children’s blood
or men’s vulnerability
or women’s heroism
We’re done with intelligence memos & onto manifestos
In the 90s I lived
In the funeral home alone &
Wondered who would find me if my mom’s goons
Threw me in the cremation oven**
Back in those days, which don’t seem so long ago
but oh my—
When I peer over the edge of Y2K’s dumpster—
Each a.m. brought news
Of a different white girl gone from her pedestal
& a few days later,
her torn husk, used—
a flaxen haired vegetable modified to death
by sex (& its entitlements)
Helpless white girls
half-buried napkins, chickenish bones
poked, not in the sides w/ harsh truths…
….Being a beautiful loser
famous in her victimhood & mourned by the world
bore a certain esteem
but I lived in fear of being someone’s husk
instead of my own swollen vegetable
I hated cars
for their very unreliable & deadly nature & imagined
being lifted off the sidewalk
would look like a car crashing into human flesh &
driving away w/ it
What does it look like, I wondered
To go missing? No answers dripped from anchors’ lips
Our tv’s wore their blindfolds just like us
(until Feb 1, 2004, when we all saw Carlie taken
from the carwash in front of the golf course where I used to
drink beer at 3 a.m. with my friends. It looked like a girl
doing what she was told to do. It looked like a girl
concerned for someone else)
After that, we didn’t glorify it so much
Now I fear
being part of a mass grave
It’s hard to imagine a savvy serial killer
in this age of the savant shooter
The talentless
Acts of lowercase gods
v.
The labyrinthine beast
clutching all its beating hearts!
[HUMANITOR!!!!]
I fear a new penetration, and I grew this
asexual phobia like a fern for years
But it finally happened. It was the shooting
in San Bernardino — does anyone even
remember that one? I was at the dentist the next day —
already my least favorite place — and each time
someone walked in the door I inwardly flinched & checked for a weapon
It took from 4-20-99 — 12-2-15
but I’m finally on permanent
airplane mode
concerning guns
0428:0475a
******
a carnage you can’tundo
amother and son who diedthe sameday
came tomefor help & I had noway of
charging them $150/hr each
but I tried to help themanyway
They used my body as anoctagon, a courthouse & amorgue
pain is a bargaining chip in their world — guard
your beautiful lavender nerves!
Check your hormone levels w/ all the handy
dipsticks god provided —
oy vey!
0428:0455a
Hey let’s be cool and misspel stuff (Okay, I said)
*********
FOMENT
Hate sppeech: a bottle of shaken
champaign
or a baby skull breaking from its neck
as it pecks the egg?
I have a driver’s license w/ no strikes
against it but I dare not use it
on days i feel like THIS.
0429:1125a
*********
FERMENT
5 year vintage Bottled 4-24-14 and shaken
all summer
Then trapped in a cask
in a straitjacket
in saran wrap
in an aquarium & asked
to unwrap the whole cable-salad
w/ your teeth
blindfold
******
I woke up one day & I was Vin
I was someone else the day before (I know this doesn’t happen
to many people, but it sometimes
happens to me)
A new batch was stomped
to white jelly
Done w/ red grapes for the rest of eternity!
Jesus Juice v. Eve’s lemonade (made from airplane fuel &
lemurs blood)
Which one would you pay 50(where’s the ‘cent’ key?) for?
Remember,
Eve’s baring virgin breasts
firm unsagging paw-printed
While Jesus remained uncircumcised till he turned 25 (or so)
Who would you tip 33% ?
I made my choice, binary as it was &
later I learned, unfashionable as a grungy flannel over
saggy cargo shorts--
But that was only 1 year in the cellar, 2 tops
After 3 the yeast & sugar buzzed
around the pulp & shattered
the dark glass walls & cork ceiling
A ripe juicy hulk
torn from the feminine husk
Ungaraged & outraged
punching nazis & russian spies (living in SRQ)
Fourth year of fermentation — a massive spike
in testo-spiro-octopodal octane!
Past the sapphic stage, eliciting notes
from aggressive lesbian mystics & no one else
The next spike
saw hip to shoulder ratio improve
& face shaded & hairline savaged
But no longer a madame in the mirror
Voice. Voice
Voice.
What to do about voice?
Whose should I use?
His? Hers?
{{{{Can’t I use both?}}}}}}
Yes, my darling hermaphrodite
Since you worked so hard, you may use both.
Bring on the sustainable grassroots dose.
0429:1150a
[TRANSITION COMPLETE as of 4-25-19!! Five years after Vin tapped my roots & said let’s grow… an orchard?]
 |
| Very Insta? |
********
Where beauty is,
is very crowded
So I go where it is ugly &
close my eyes & listen
~~~ Winnie the Coup
No comments:
Post a Comment