Screen Dump 272

You thought you could unravel the laughter
aloft in strange machines
piloted by novitiates grown weary of story telling . . .
When the time comes, yes? . . .
The ink dissolving . . .
The audience exiting . . .
Remarkable in your post-Vanna White protocol
smoothing archaeological ruin from the third century BCE . . .
Surprisingly easy to walk the straight and narrow, yes? . . .
How many have adjusted contrasting embellishments
and resumed play . . . as if it were nothing? . . .
Pawn to Queen-Four . . .
Happenstance knocking at the door . . .
Time to re-enter the crinkled photos
when box lunches rode roughshod over delegates . . .

Begin mute . . .

Make a left turn here
while the voiceover is catching its breath . . .
Imagine circumvention . . .
Count the number of bagels in a baker's dozen
to help you regain a firm footing
and face the unknown with a patchwork quilt
and matching ambiguities . . .

End mute . . .

You will see what you believe
absent the existential interview and/or debriefing . . .
As you wish . . .
the main character was heard to say
before remembering forgetfulness
as if one two three threw open a portal
to a magic kingdom . . .
We are reminded of incidentals
echo chambers
classrooms filled with images of recipes
for navigating life's eddies . . .
The traffic ramps up
inspiring us to confront the dilemma of remainders
as if jumping the gun meant more . . .
Your six-year-old can do this, yes? . . .

Screen Dump 271

Incomprehensible regurgitations . . . overtake many of those
who seek solace in the balladeer's tongue . . .
conjuring the self . . .
while outside snow speaks makeshift lyrics . . .
We are released early for good behavior
to rouse the ire of the nasty weather . . .
pocketing vials of Teflon for the folks back home . . .
The streets clown us . . .
There will be no escaping the night . . .
especially now with your diary veering into unconsciousness . . .

Wendy Bevan

Screen Dump 270

This standstill is senseless . . . but necessary . . .
Let's recap the past few hours days months . . .
You gave (head?) at the office . . . but didn't inhale . . .
while arch-conservatives polliwogged their way to keynotes . . .
We need to listen to clusters of notes before we decide . . .
No one note alone is good or bad . . .
Hours spent squiggling on the Freddie Freihofer Show . . .
its juxtaposition of arms and legs spawning footnotes . . .
some pages long . . . not unlike DFW's . . .
athletic . . . at the very least . . .
Good that you sloughed off the accusation of redundancy . . .
There's an aesthetic consciousness
in this gaggle of blunt assertions . . .
this mess . . . if you will . . .
this close encounter of the pathological kind . . .
Fear not! . . . the green light . . . the applause . . .
the key to the hidden room behind the bookcase . . .
in the library . . .
will temper in time . . .
Yes, the butler did it . . . with the candelabrum . . .
shuffling off his mortal coil . . . to Buffalo
with a windchill in the negative tweens . . .
But aren't most? . . .
John B. Watson for example knew exactly what he was doing . . .
before his stint as Mad Man . . .
bedding down his graduate assistant Rosalie
while conditioning Little Albert B . . .
who was never counterconditioned . . . to fear fur . . .
Never forget the basement of the Alamo, yes? . . .
You too have had hybrid encounters
and a reluctance to reveal your userid . . .
to anyone but your hairdresser . . .
in your 50-minute hours on Skype
bumping up against The People's Court . . .
litigating the littlest legalities
(if one chooses to call them that) . . .
while taking inspiration from she who must be obeyed . . .
Evidently . . . came up . . . again . . . and again . . .

Wendy Bevan

Screen Dump 269

You spend afternoons with homonyms . . .
connecting dots of primordial images with the speed of a python . . .
In the free-weight room at the gym . . . language evolves . . .
The blinds withdraw . . .
Amanuenses appear . . . for St. Valentine's Day . . .
You continue to pump iron . . .
adjusting the sweats you took a shine to . . .
without a sense of dread . . .
The costume . . . as Book of Days . . .
as notations sanded smooth by prevailing winds . . .
runs deep . . .
Close encounters of some kind ensue . . .
You tap your smart phone to the beat of his/her enunciation . . .
Three sets of 12 reps, yes? . . .
You are reminded of . . .
those times . . . late at night when you . . .
enraptured by your Kindle . . .
keep adjusting its brightness . . . for better or worse . . .

Screen Dump 268

Cartesian luminaries . . . of the most outlandish . . .
brought in . . . at the last minute . . .
on ferryboats . . . saturated with artsy stuff . . .
Where to put in? . . .
My dreams paralyzed . . .
demanding answers to questions
orphaned in blue books . . . long ago . . .
You are heartbreakingly, disarmingly funny . . .
illuminating the what ifs
so dear to many . . .
especially on Tuesdays and Thursdays
when the bagels are at their mouth-watering best . . .
Back and forth . . . and again . . .
Imaginations rekindled . . .
Smooth faces in fun house mirrors . . .
with words . . . Frostian . . .
catapulting a mind of winter
into the present tense . . . with all the fixins' . . .
Instead of communion . . . a solo foray
within which words come alive
and lead to salvation . . .
and/or to that place for pondering the afterlife . . .

Charlize Theron

Screen Dump 267

Circumlocution . . . if only . . .
mired in reruns . . . the solace of the familiar . . .
taking a break . . .
assembling rationales for the hiatus . . .

you find plant life . . .
a crack in the glass . . .
from moment to moment
and then the drying out . . .

moving on . . .
folding yourself into an envelope
with instructions for re-entry . . .
riffling through dog-eared pages

transfused . . .
as if in the narrows . . . boats bottleneck
then begin without waiting . . .
But waiting . . . for what? . . .

The blank page? . . .
The incomplete sentence? . . .
You too cast off
then rethink

lines from your favorite books . . .
your favorite films . . .
By why now? . . .
Now when the others are about to arrive? . . .

Anka Zhuravleva

Screen Dump 266

Big-haired backyard barbecuers
dance feverishly
in yellowing collages of pics . . .
zigzag through the neighborhood
trafficking in incidentals . . .
fingers . . . keyboarding songs
swollen in possibility . . .
sheer happenstance
and garage band coloratura . . .
Recall the duct tape
its iterations
when what to my wondrous eyes should appear
cascades of ganglia
interspersed with large drops of rain . . .
This will take some explaining . . .
Is this the winter . . . of our malcontent? . . .
The song and dance continues . . .
Dogs and ponies celebrate
proof . . . of existence
logging roads and junkyards
vying for a place in the annals
of small town etiquette
and independent films . . .
Of course, you can do it! . . .
Well, there's always a first time
(don't deny it) . . .
but with ancient history snapping at our heels
it feels new . . . as if Scene 1 resurfaced . . .
in REM sleep . . .
How many years ago was that, again? . . .
Furniture music
the invasion of smart devices . . .
takeaways thrown away . . .
One could fashion an excuse (I suppose)
architectural embellishments
pock-marked with red anthills
kicking back with a beer
at the corner pub
the ongoing conversations
finessing flirtations
as if the countdown had begun
and locals had taken to the high ground
fearing floods
triglycerides
broken promises
from others earmarked for their contributions
to adult coloring books . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 265

Quizzical stares lead to a room where empty nesters
eager for the next assignment
take the scenic route to work
slip through metal detection . . . and into cubes
to engage their fantasies . . . before lunch . . .
Something bodes well here . . .
gaining momentum with Ashberian clarity . . .
wrestling with the script . . .
high water marks notwithstanding . . .
The new millennium continues to strut its stuff . . .
Santa will find out who's naughty and nice, anyway . . .
Some prefer not to carbo-load . . .
Some prefer to pick them up and put them down . . .
in full view of a diorama of articulated porn stars
sporting incidental galoshes . . .
speaking exponential volumes
brimming with architectural references . . .
Is this working? . . .
Is it making a dent in the indeterminate afterthought? . . .
It's time to cut to the chase . . .
to stop picking lint . . .
There is no story here . . . no landfill . . .
no hooks . . .
nor ax to grind . . .
nothing beyond your metric . . .
a drop in the unimaginable bucket of leftovers . . .
X + Y + Z = more . . . or less . . .

Dree Hemingway

Screen Dump 264

Someone should record this . . .
Absent condescensions . . .
You can do this . . . assume ownership of the character . . .
Meet yourself halfway . . .
OK, into the darkness . . .
Then? . . .
"All the world's a stage," yes? . . .
In Friendly's . . . with interlopers . . .
Can we start over? . . .
No idea . . .
Stop . . . already . . . with the analyzing . . .
Ditch the script . . .
I'm cutting and pasting . . .
I am in a restaurant . . .
Tap the app, already . . . please . . .
OK, OK . . . I'm reading the menu
looking for a theme . . . a conceit . . .
What? . . . Drop the formalities . . .
Find the door into the character . . .
But the character has disappeared . . .
Wing it then . . .
Sans this . . . sans that . . . sans this and that? . . .
Squabbling with those in the know? . . . in the front row? . . .
Break through the Fourth Wall . . .
Only you can prevent usurpations . . .
This time without backup . . .
without the profile . . . which was sketchy at best . . .
I am "at" my best . . .
Without overworking? . . .
Pace . . . Isn't that it? . . .
Now look at what you've done . . . the audience has disappeared . . .
But this is good, yes? . . .
You are by yourself . . .
No next line . . . no next scene . . .
freeing yourself to _____ (fill in the blank) . . .
No dropdown? . . .
No dropdown . . .

2001 film adaptation of Samuel Beckett's "Play"