Screen Dump 317

So, sad fact, but get used to it, because nothing else is going to happen.
          - Anne Carson

How well did you know him/her? . . .
I didn’t know him/her . . .
Why then the need to act? . . .
the need to deliver lines as if on stage? . . .
I am on hold . . . otherwise . . .
The world erased, rebuilt, erased again . . .

Reminds me of Poe's The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar . . .
How so? . . .
A mesmerist puts a man in a suspended hypnotic state
at the moment of death . . .
But aren't we all suspended in the here and now
awaiting deportation to the there and then? . . .

Houdini never got back to Bess, yes? . . .
But what about now? . . .
Now? . . . I'm only a pawn in the game . . .
A stretch limo . . . with credits . . .
The idea of closure as afterthought . . .
as incidental . . . lost amid the fourth wall . . .

I tried to follow the directions
but kept getting derailed by the enjambments . . .
to say nothing of the pages . . . and pages of footnotes . . .
Have no idea why I felt compelled to continue . . .
I guess it has something to do with where I’ve been . . .
A clue perhaps in the first few lines? . . .

You float above an empty amphitheater . . .
slough-off chance encounters . . .
with reenacters . . .
You hope to make a series of short films
inspired by Anne Carson’s comment that
the best one can hope for as a human

is to have a relationship with that emptiness
where God would be if God were available . . .
You return to the original wording . . .
The line-breaks have yellowed . . .
Impossible to draw the curtains . . .
This much you allow . . .

Screen Dump 316

The pattern of liking should have tipped you off . . .
A long bout of solitude
wrestling on what Mallarmé called the bony wing
only to arrive at the Pop-Up Shop of Pure Reason . . .
Irrelevant, your Honor . . .
This is all in writing, yes? . . .
The declensions . . . the alterations . . .
Insidious, but then . . .
demythologizing the odyssey . . .
à la Maggie Nelson in Bluets:
[It] worked well because he is a passive top
and I am an active bottom . . .
You have encumbered your SUV . . . and your script
with encrustations . . .
the elements of which remain just beyond your assignment . . .
yet you continue to entice players
with your absentmindedness
and hoop skirt . . . hoping for a shot at Reality TV . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 315

You're driving the bus . . . and texting . . .
flirting with alternatives . . . in graphology and museology . . .
taking back roads for all they're worth . . .
breadcrumbing a false route for trolls
back to The Holy Roman Empire . . .
Can you handle the asymmetry? . . .
the inconsistencies? . . .
Can you distance yourself from those
quibbling over insignificance? . . .
No need to reload the camera, yes? . . .
You're on record for covers
for begin-agains
for setting up a kiosk in a trailer park
outside of Atlantic City . . .
and you have been written up for quilting your odyssey . . .
complete with blue lights, dampeners, and (un)dressers . . .
Let's reshoot the conflict and resolution scene, OK? . . .
I know you would have expected a humidifier . . .
but that's for later . . . in the series . . .
after the backers bail . . .
Why bother with circumlocution now . . .
when there are oodles of others . . . chomping at the bit? . . .

Kate Barry

Screen Dump 314

Endless arrays of costumes . . . their subtlety . . .
The clock . . . mimicking the art of the play . . .
the art of the players . . .
their parts . . .
chatting some up . . . bells and whistles . . . and all that . . .
Enlightenment on hold, of course! . . . otherwise . . .
Otherwise, what? . . .
Otherwise, . . . stop gaps . . . transpositions . . .
lost in the labyrinthine aisles
of supermarkets . . . and superstores . . .
Throw who a bone? . . .
Oh, really? . . .
Do you think . . .
Start over . . .
OK, how about this . . . Is there no other way? . . .
You could have at least waited for the credits to roll
yet knowing how way leads on to way? . . .
Time can move forward . . . and backward, yes? . . .
Why then waste time . . . in the waiting line? . . .
Subtraction as metaphor . . . as deal breaker . . .
as long lost . . .
Stop sign innuendos . . . fiberglass juxtapositions . . .
And you? . . . shortlisted . . .
here . . . in your bunker . . . a notch or two . . . up or down . . .

Kate Barry

Screen Dump 313

The Fall Before the Winter . . .

Act One, Scene One: The Agoraphobe . . .

A tilt-a-whirl ride in October’s unseasonal heat . . .
with you going on about the difficulty controlling
the unleashed vulnerability . . .
Your weeping willows . . . and pale matadors as such . . .
and your nostalgia . . . surely counterintuitive . . .
but so what? . . .
Hot prospects jam the queue . . .
Icebreakers . . . with pilsner (eye)glasses
as if Wittgenstein's half-smile
or Dylan's Nobel . . .
Hammering it out with Miles's Someday My Prince Will Come . . .
You decide to err on the side of happenstance . . .
lost in the strictures
of adult coloring books . . .
To seek refuge in a momentary lapse . . .
The incredible luminosity of such
with your ducks all lined up, yes? . . .
X marks the spot
where you began one of your maiden voyages . . .
To be continued . . .
But I thought the pervasive Dadaesque spirit of invention
was a matter of course . . .
wigging out over a red herring . . .
Notwithstanding? . . .
The question of balance comes up to the stage . . .
And I suppose you have others to spare? . . .
There’s a bagginess to it all . . .
a looseness . . .
nothing to steer the course . . .
You left in search of common ground
which you know as well as I
will quarrel with the provocative ensemble
inserted as an addendum . . .
You have been selected for tricks . . . and treats . . .
But aren't you already on someone's to-do list? . . .
Read the next paragraph to yourself, please . . .

Bruno Aveillan

Screen Dump 312

But I am done with apple-picking now.
          - Robert Frost, After Apple-Picking

You order a side of slaw from a waitress in a faded yellow uniform

and worry the humdrum of participating in a mass transit Q&A

as if the bottom were about to fall out . . .

Books are remaindered in times like these . . .

A Netflix devotee with a fat queue trots out an old something

you don't quite get . . .

You think leeks . . .

probably because Dr. Oz extolled their benefits yesterday

on several flat screen smart TVs . . .

Just how smart are they? . . . No idea . . .

When will they ever learn? . . . Dunno . . .

Raindrops keep fallin' on your head . . .

The morning meet-and-greet is a rain check . . .

The wet grass . . . and then? . . .

And then the concubine in you appears . . .

against the world of hoary grass

to announce that she too is done with apple-picking now . . .

Future prospects cast a baleful glance . . .

foreshadowed by ossification and entropy . . .

And so it goes . . .

the after-hours dramatization

the playing hooky in the aftermath . . .

Stymied . . . and overwhelmed . . . with delight, I might add . . .

sinking your teeth into a covered dish

as passersby scratch stubble . . .

and dream of becoming swingers of birches . . .

The standing room only room spins . . .

and fills with surrogate ventriloquist dummies

riding bicycles built for two . . .

By then you are three, four, five . . . maybe even six or seven . . .

Screen Dump 311

There was no misnomer . . . in retrospect . . .
No mistranslation . . . misinterpretation . . .
Naughtiness rendered as daguerreotype . . .
rendered kaleidoscopically . . .
Tests of insignificance at the .05 level invade your sleep . . .
raise hell with the books on the shelf . . .
say nothing when the garden is readied for winter . . .
The overcast morning gives way to a detour . . .
gives way to a mind of winter . . .
I marvel at your driving . . .
And you with your vegetable mindset . . .
a vegan's way of looking at a menu . . .
Destry Rides Again . . . Excuse me? . . .
Cyclists spinning . . . around second base . . . grandstanding . . .
practicing voice lessons . . .
vocal folds encircle Gregorian Chants
in the first inning of a triple header
on the Williamsburg Bridge . . .
Sonny Rollins . . . on the Williamsburg Bridge . . .
circa 1962 . . .
Returning to Brooklyn . . . in the back seat . . .
lipstick smudges . . .
lipstick smudged . . .
As if the body were a stop light . . . snagging the unsuspecting . . .
As if rigor mortis were about to set in . . .
And you . . . odyssey'd . . . hanging by the threat of a garter belt . . .
by the threat of a garter snake . . .
and it's summer . . . fall . . . winter . . . spring . . .
and it's Howdy Doody Time . . .
with Clarabell (all three) . . . and Buffalo Bob . . .
and it's your wedding day . . .
rewound to the first time . . .
Stick women . . . in bustiers . . .
Naughtiness . . . under layer upon layer upon layer of tulle . . .
Come right in! . . . only to count out thirty pieces of silver . . .
Just the other day I was reminded
of Penfield's memory experiments . . .
We forget nothing, yes? . . .
Pontificating on Windows 10 Internet speed degradation . . .
But I'm worried about consuming huge system resources . . .
and deconstructed grocery lists . . .
Caution! . . . Wet Paint! . . .
the wrong color . . .
the wrong place . . .
the wrong time . . .
There was no wreckage . . . in retrospect . . . but now look . . .

Sarah Moon