Screen Dump 147

You embrace evasiveness for those intuiting the darkness . . .
that is sure to arrive . . .
most likely when the bag of chips is only half-eaten . . .
And to those who smug their arrival with dogeared albums . . .
of yellowing photographs . . .
Past Masters of the Universe . . .
Big hair days . . .
Days of knights groping pawns . . .
You had a knack for racking near hits . . .
for the inevitability of amusement parks . . .
and head-turning with single-digit checkmates . . .
It is as it was, yes? . . .
How will you get through the rest of your life? . . .
A PowerPoint, perhaps? . . .
Clocking the brittleness of cluster flies . . .
flipping flopping eavesdropping . . . on the sill . . .
Checking your email for holiday doodads . . .
and buy-backs . . .
The crows with their tickets . . . the snow beginning . . .
You decide to slow down . . . again . . .
to savor the word . . .
to record the footsteps of your favorite writers . . . blocked . . .
Dreaming . . . the after-hour dramas in the pen . . .

Natalia

Screen Dump 146

The script is fumbled . . . the waiter brings bread and wine . . .
She says, I am Uma . . .
She tap dances with the specials . . . rummaging . . .
She sports a black clip-on bowtie . . . and black ballet flats . . .
She is credentialed . . .
You can hear a pin drop . . . during lulls . . .
Knowing how things work is somewhat of a relief . . .
but then scrutiny knocks . . .
and it's 1st and 10 . . .
Uma asks about HTML5 . . .
Suddenly, a pall appears . . . at the door . . .
several pick lint . . . drop back to punt . . .
From moment to moment . . . give and take . . .
Your life . . . a hashtag . . .
It's not time for softspoken huddles . . .
or reminiscences . . .
He/she remembers you . . . and the time(s) . . .
Even when thinking about someone you weren't that crazy about . . .
A switch flips . . . and there's a rush . . .

Screen Dump 145

The up-and-comers came . . . flashdancing unpronounceables . . .
Mitigating circumstances? . . . Posh! . . .
You have seen the illusion . . . and it is us . . .
Why now after so many trips to the outer limits? . . .
In a flurry of words . . .
How often have you stumbled upon the castle of disbelief? . . .
As in This is what needs to be done . . .
It was lost upon him/her . . . lost! . . .
And now the scene opens with yet another candied apple . . .
Being offered surreptitiously . . .
You're running out of raw material . . . and you know it . . .
Look, the air out here is friendly . . .
Backstroke if need be . . .
You'll receive full credit . . . from your sponsor . . .
Singing in ways we are not . . .
Trying to stay awake through the lugubrious moments . . .
We all have them . . .
Watching the players . . . build a new world . . . pixel upon pixel . . .
Wait, back-channel sniping is verboten . . .
Before you know it we too will be there . . . sooner other than that . . .
Ha! . . . Isn't it romantic? . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 144

The convolutions though subtle are exasperatingly trivial . . .
Rather mediocre . . .
He spent his life drilling teeth . . .
Can you imagine the next floor? . . .
You shouldn't expect miracles . . .
especially after you've consistently refused updates . . .
quashing outside solicitations . . .
It's a question of overage . . . and how to deal with it . . .
Mastering last-minute tabletop conversions . . .
Why allow just anyone? . . .
Trying to plot a course pitiably colored with indecision . . .
especially after finding yourself here . . .
in the middle of this multitasked mess . . .
Pocket a convenient delusion . . .
Grab your paintbox . . . landscapes await . . .
The results will induce a trance unlike any other . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 143

It's as if you were pixillated between then and now . . .
Your voracious appetites . . . and obsessions . . .
the charm of supersymmetry . . .
To feel wanted in a way that's not abusive . . .
One minute this . . . the next that . . .
And suddenly you're aboard a train in Russia's deep winter . . .
I doubt that it could have been avoided . . .
The summer was telling . . . but we weren't listening, were we? . . .
Or maybe we were . . . I don't know . . .
Can you imagine the purgatorial whisper of expats? . . .
And the cute little dog-and-pony shows . . .
in that bedraggled circus? . . .
Fueling you with enough esteem to begin the beguine . . .
Assuming the position . . . disproportionately . . . for whomever . . .
The inside of the dream . . . expanding exponentially . . .
Nothing was lost . . . really . . .
Dusting yourself off . . . turning the key . . .
And the sudden dumping of six feet of snow . . .
Stranding travelers . . . to say nothing of transmorgrification . . .

Anka Zhuravleva

Screen Dump 142

You asterisk-out several lines of email . . .
The flip-floppiness and incredulity build . . .
Words collide . . .
Tomorrow arrives as an addendum . . .
OK, share with me your deepest moment . . .
the one that won the stay of execution . . .
the one that periodically slips through your bedroom window . . .
that momentary apparition in red . . .
that settles in for the midnight ride . . .
kicking your REM sleep to the curb . . .
while short-circuiting the treasure trove of language . . .
ransacked and melted down for alumni weekend . . .
You knew about this, yes? . . .
About the first-person shooters on the beta team? . . .
About the disappointing closet-space in microcosms? . . .
About the players . . . and their parts . . .
delivering lines with the insensitivity of cold pizza . . .
the anchovies engaged in their own trancelike deceptions? . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 141

You worry the ineptitude of surrogate understudies . . .
and have become a quick-study . . .
in the Art of Articulation . . .
friending one-trick ponies . . . and those . . .
decked out in micro-minis . . . with advanced degrees . . .
in wainscoting . . . and winter tire wear . . .
You . . . at the bus stop . . .
in down toolbelt . . . and silver stilettos . . .
haggling . . . with members of the audience . . .
awaiting the free lecture . . .
on the etymology of symbiosis . . .
The weather turning nasty . . .
You decide to specialize . . . in box lunches . . .
for all makes and models . . . of up-and-comers . . .
filling the air with tidbits . . .
pocketing some . . . for a late night snack . . .
with him/her . . .
You've managed to elongate time . . . and wait . . .
for an opening . . .
where you can study first flakes . . . first hand . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 140

Let me put it to you this way . . .
There have been several . . . irksome bastards indeed . . .
who . . . having filed the necessary paperwork . . .
toyed with the idea of playing the role of sandbox . . .
before skeedaddling out of town . . .
A Marshall Dillon lookalike . . .
sidelined by a sidewinder . . .
wanting to know the whereabouts . . .
of the dime-store triplets . . .
who had headlined at the cobbled-together theater-in-the-round . . .
where you . . . always on call . . .
for whatever you are on call for . . .
parroted lines . . . pocketing necktied alter egos . . .
Reminds me of Ebenezer's partner . . .

Adamo de Pax

Screen Dump 139

You have the moves . . . so why the cryptic notes? . . .
Whenever he/she was blocked . . .
Instead of magnification . . . over-analysis and such . . .
But don't we all trod the boards . . . day in and day out? . . .
Formulating hypotheses . . . for the inner fortune teller . . .
masked . . . with satin opera-length gloves . . .
ready to rock and roll . . . after catching some shut-eye? . . .
I wanted to use a stacked deck . . .
The way we played make-believe . . .
your aunt filling us with pie . . . and pontifications . . .
At the swimming hole . . . surrounded by unknown weeping willows . . .
not yet understanding the signs and symbols . . .
Offshore . . . the alligators' red eyes . . .

Anka Zhuravleva

Screen Dump 138

I am awakened by a reenactor . . . tinkering with my thoughts . . .
You as reenactor . . .
The world as reenactment . . .
No longer self-conscious . . .
in the diner . . . the bookstore . . . beyond the stand of pine . . .
Where insects are clicking like crazy . . .
I can't name them . . .
You as tenth classical muse . . .
sucking me in with your unruly ritualism . . . and bedhead antics . . .
I need to grocery-shop . . . but I've forgotten . . .
Farm fresh at the server farm . . . is the only way . . .
Send in the memes . . .
The mechanisms of historical reenactment nudge the funny bone . . .
The artificial theatricality is mad . . .
The enjambments bottleneck . . .
The petitioners in the coffee shop morph into pensioners . . .
auditioning for yet another Night of the Living Dead . . .
You as telletubby teletubbied into the Twilight Zone . . .
A Rod Serling telletubby is asking you questions inside your duffel bag . . .
You engorge yourself on duffel blogs . . . submitted for your approval! . . .
Your potassium level drops . . . to an unhealthy low . . .
You contemplate settling for even less . . . most do, yes? . . .
But then . . . in the nick of time . . .
New morphological evidence appears . . . on your desktop . . .
shepherding your icons into the cloud atlas . . .
Third and fourth cousins thrice removed replace steampunks in the scrum . . .
You as steampunk . . .
And once again before the bell you realize . . . life is hunky-dory . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 137

Wowed by the manhole-man's trifocals . . . one two three . . .
you bail out before getting in . . .
The bread truck . . . at four in the morning . . .
Another in a long line of fellow something-or-others . . .
Minor players in a major role . . . in a minor drama . . .
Life as shtick, yes? . . . Nothing wrong with that . . .
Eye-rolling has been shown to help six out of ten cases
of self-consciousness . . . and objectification . . .
regroup . . . re-costume . . . re-enter . . . reenact . . .
The fray is not what they say . . .
Ubiquitous holiday geegaws . . .
If only for a couple of bucks to inhale
and breathe the night away . . .
I've been having trouble following the instant replays . . .
Please resend the list of character actors . . .
The newspaper headlines jammed down your deep throat . . .
You hold your breath . . . you hold on . . . you are about to dive
at least according to the news anchor
following past online acquaintances . . . and liaisons . . .
(The physician's assistant will see you now!) . . .
Trying to find shelter in the storm
that slammed coastal towns . . . with unheard of references . . .
Just what do you give at the office? . . .

Anka Zhuravleva

Screen Dump 136

Something about the texture of our past lives . . .
The imminent imminent . . . falling like pollen . . .
You review the rewrite . . .
The spoken word . . . going deep . . .
Reconnecting with players from archival footage . . .
A comfort zone . . . at first . . .
At one time following-through made sense . . .
But now . . . entrapped in provocation . . .
you're lost . . . and not sure why . . .
Your re-entry into the dream makes sense . . .
if only for the therapeutic touch of others . . .
close . . . and not so close . . .
Calling for reservations . . .
you recognize the voice . . . from everywhere . . .

Adrian Blachut

Screen Dump 135

You as goth at 7-Eleven . . . no lines to memorize . . . all gesture . . .
and angularity . . . tangled in your wiles . . .
The User Manual's 18-minute gap . . .
wreaking havoc among the locals . . .
who lapse into a false pretense . . . at every convenience store . . .
Bored with board games with bar flies . . .
You announce check . . . with the enthusiasm of an afterthought . . .
The room is wired . . . you have no idea . . .
You were warned not to make a scene . . .
A megabyte of bluffing tumbles out of the back room . . .
Everyone pretends to be interested . . .
Why? . . . I haven't the foggiest . . .
You do remember him, yes? . . . and your run as resident stalker? . . .
His laugh and smell fueling your incidence . . .

Anka Zhuravleva

Screen Dump 134

I've lost my notes . . . the count . . . the sound . . .
I'm not so sure anymore that retrieval is a lucrative venture . . .
Surely you can make do with fewer crayons . . .
At least in my neck of the woods . . .
You know what they say . . .
Incidentally, the sidewalks have been rolled out . . .
for the brouhaha . . .
Everyone - well most everyone - will be partying on . . .
I hope there's a headcount . . .
It's always easier to pick up where you left off . . .
I've heard you've been sparring with Send in the Clowns . . .
when you should be concentrating on walking an imaginary line . . .
Don't get carried away by the lyrics . . .
You have all the necessary accoutrements . . .
the lucky trees, the rapidograph, etc. . . .
And now we . . . in the Cold Lands . . . are preparing ourselves . . .
Stockpiling rubber bands . . . yeah, there you go! . . .

Anka Zhuravleva