Screen Dump 406

As if partnering in the process of distributing paint
on an uncomprehending surface . . .
the insinuation was an of course phenomenon
the enormity of which was enough to zero-out the counters
maintained by slow readers courting time slow reading
worrying the artless passages . . .
You maintained a page count
and tweaked the lines that peeked through
the deconstruction
misdirecting the watchers at the gate . . .
Later you greeted the inexperienced
with a template for testing the waters without smartphones . . .
You wished otherwise . . . perhaps . . .
and this of course was not the first-time . . . triggering points
locked in formaldehyde for artful dodgers
vying for a piece of your pie . . .

Gabriele Rigon

Screen Dump 405

The evidentiary moment fuels your ah-ha . . .
the excitement filling in the blanks with the names of identity theives
while sweet-talking desserters . . .
Your words . . . bittersweet . . . seduce the far-fetched . . .
A pared-down Proustian approach
scans images . . . free-writes shortcuts
to the enigmas of entrapment . . . of standing-room intimacies . . .
No need to spend time call-waiting . . .
The costumes will color in their own lexicon . . .

Liliana Karadjova

Screen Dump 404

Mentioning the unmentionable was a mistake, yes? . . .
A Type II error . . . when players
with see-through credit lines are admitted - or, committed - with F-scale
aficionados . . . and guaranteed a place in the penultimate playoffs . . .
Again, you regress to costuming the unintended . . .
highlighting misdirection
with the fourth-quarter ticking down
as if YouTubers in roundabouts spun your nom de plume
with an elementary logic . . .
Calling the shots in the kaleidoscopic manner of the mentally ill . . .
Star-struck triglyceriders on the storm . . .
Go-betweens doing bright-white lines with sans serif junkies in triplicate . . .
It's not anonymous, anymore, I mean . . . all pitter-patters, if you will? . . .

Lolitaesque

Screen Dump 403

So the analysis continues
picking through the odyssey's detritus
undaunted by the future's trailer
pastiched scenes stampeding lesser inklings . . .
you . . . convinced of their value . . .
of the value of the gems hidden
in the wordplay . . .
the run-on sentences
the incomplete sentences
the closed mouths of intermediaries
enough to bankroll another journey
into the past life of . . .
the past lives of . . .
awaiting the end run . . . that awaits . . .
the scrimmage
the scrum . . .
as if raising a pole barn against time
during off-seasons
with beards-a-plenty is enough . . .
is more than enough . . .
to satisfy the insatiables at the back door . . .
I am who I am . . .
You are who you are . . .
We are who we are . . .
introducing the next player
the next contestant
the next confidant
dollied . . . with head akimbo . . .
the uppercut beginning its ascent . . .
the paradigm shifting . . .
Zoom lens atop drone . . .
Standing down
scripted for the takedown
yellowing . . .
The elders . . . next . . . searching out
tender limbs on which to place
their hard-earned words . . . so yesterday . . .

Rooney Mara in A Ghost Story (2017)

Screen Dump 402

That the current overuse of bespoke is an example
of semantic drift triggers memories of warm summer nights
when you would rehearse unlisted numbers
with a niggling exactitude . . .
hurling backseat drivers back to their Once upon a time . . .
The elements of style reeked of insouciance . . .
Little matter though . . . your redacted paper trail
exposed the bellies of the beasts you'd encountered
as you odyssey'd past the stop signs of endearment . . .
Center stage was occasionally occasioned . . .
You backpedaled as best you could, yes? . . .
with little effort to upstage the obvious . . .
We're plugging leaks choruses through most of the recital space . . .
This back-and-forth-back-and-forth upends many
as Valentine's Day swoops down upon a newhire standin
with Out to Lunch cred . . .

Linda Evangelista

Overnight at the Ventriloquist's

(reposted from Wednesday, June 1, 2011)

His voice is everywhere.
His knowledge of cork vast.
He talks about his plans
to retire to a walled city
with underground labyrinths
inhabited by used car salesmen
posing as television personalities.
He will not take No for an answer.
Jobs are scarce, he says,
from under the rug.
Too many words, too many words.
He whistles in three-part harmony
and keeps five balls in the air.
Halfway through the evening,
he saws a woman in half
while drinking a glass of water.
The other guests continue
to arrive in suitcases.
We fall under his spell.
Dinner is served by candlelight.
The artichoke under glass
dances to Mahler's slow movements
rising from a wax cartridge
in front of a great fire
brimming with wooden arms and legs.
We are shown to our rooms with flashlights.
Later that night, it begins to snow -
thick, indifferent flakes swirl down
like confetti in a snowglobe.

Screen Dump 401

Famously lingering . . . after hours
with pages of questions pulsing with anticipation . . .
But what of the rendezvous? . . .
Surely it will play itself out
despite the sluggishness of infinitives . . .
Suppose we consider the portal as a revamp . . .
as an exegesis of odysseys past? . . .
Some will soon age out
but others will doubtless raise a ruckus
if for no other reason than the discrepancies between the script
and your play acting . . .
costume changes notwithstanding . . .
Yet another example of explanatory fiction, yes? . . .

Craig McDean