Stand

An impulse is just a flashing weight. A choice has a beginning middle and end. Maybe there is a roundness.

Starving by Hailee Steinfeld feat. Zedd

"I didn't know that I was starving till I tasted you"

1.

I am needing you as I need you. I am both needing and my need for you. 

2.

A poem about attachment, that is, a reflective surface adjoining a supportive surface. A heavy book that constantly hovers 3-4 inches from your hand in the case of a deadly insect's appearance in your field of view at any given moment. A charger for your charger. The first-person account of a dead person's life. An entire subjectivity contained in a single vibe. 

3.

Whatever you say becomes what is said. Advice is what was seen. With my first love our first kiss was also our last. Action dashes ahead, saving its speed for the end of the race. That cheeky Olympian. 

4.

All I’m trying to say is innocence and so simple. I’m trying to say it simply. But contemporary. I’ve seen enough of the world to know it stands up on its own. Doesn’t need me to keep existing. This world is a found object. Why make a mountain out of a molehill? 

5.

Layers lay down revealing in their place bright space. Brightspace trademark symbol. I wish I never had to floss again. AI voice explaining a black market casino where the premise is you either win $5 million or you die. With no commercial qualities I drag myself forward. "You have to find your hack." I think this is closer to you. My being an axiom of non-doing I am extremely prone to making of patience a lovely bedfellow. A real-life girlfriend. 

6.

I wanted to tell you just how much I’ve been needing to cry. Just how much I've been listening to Cocteau Twins while riding my bike down wide industrial roads past Amazon warehouses, heaps of dirt beneath imperial awnings, late-night laborers putting their trust in letters and numbers. My eyes, the ones I work to empty, get so full––replete like the proscenium’s velvet curtains but drop-waist with a lamb-of-mutton sleeve. H2O the material. I hear opening night falls on a Thursday this year. 

Basically Nine

You could learn life-altering lessons between now and your ninth birthday. You’re not nine yet. It’s September 21st and your birthday is October 19th. You’re not “basically nine.” I am smiling at you as you stand with your feet together. You have the classical music station memorized. Tell me again how you know you won't have a nightmare tonight because you already had one last night? 

Theory Girl

She doesn't believe in shooting stars. But she believes in shoes and cars. Her job is to have big boobs, and to speak eloquently of things. Her eyes flit and dangle as you talk to her. At bottom her nature is good and honest, although she may push back against notions of nature, providence, depth, etc. She is at once totally glamorous and completely unsheathed. I barely think about myself when I'm with her. I am just thinking of her when I am thinking of her. Every week she slays down. Even wearing camo. Abstract concepts are afraid of her. She reifies, and we watch. Perfumed frenchly and sloshing in skin, a lock of hair neither damaged nor new stoops to our level. From her we learn things about being-in-the-world and Kim Kardashian, Jacobin politics and who what being when where, and why. From her we learn why.

DHL

I tried the zeitgeist

They sent me back

My dancers

My dancers aren't even dancers. They're not mine. They're mucal and homonymic, like advertisements, alternative pronunciations. They are my friends.