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Disparate marks quotes letters numbers . . .

indifference spilling over onto the floor

and you're telling me about

the day's little tragedies . . .

the interiority enlarged

squashing decouplings of moments

that were chosen to color the room

where someone is doing laps

in a claw-footed tub . . .

On the far hill two castles . . .

You're answering texts with your voice

carrying the irrelevancy in your canvas backpack . . .

You worried pleather then opted for cerulian

which has nothing to do with the overdue landscape . . .

It's OK, yes? . . . hoping not to disrupt

the train of thought

chuffing toward derailment . . .

Circus wagons will be cleared in no time . . .

Think puppets . . . that always seems to work . . .

Am I wrong? . . .

Regardless, the late summer morning is happily

urging voices to sample the mélange . . .

Soon, streets will be overrun with tourists . . .

Again, a near miss . . .

Fabio Chizzola

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Mind-boggling show and tells

puppy-like on makeshift silent-screen backlots

sometimes among headstones

to make the most of rubbings . . .

The sacred geometry of chance . . .

Then elapsation . . . and you're elsewhere

jabbering for roles

that highlight your good-to-the-last-drop selfies . . .

If only the timer . . .

Photoshopped, perhaps? . . .

But that's not the shape of your heart, yes? . . .

On this stage what matters is no longer a matter . . .

up and out with tail no longer bushy . . .

Here a necromancer to choreograph

a dance with realignment

and proprioception for flagging élans vital . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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You're three-quarters in, more like four-fifths . . .

the fit and finish

of many years of off-and-on attempts

at involvement, at engagement . . .

The files in your folder labeled fodder . . .

encryption, hybridity, binaries . . .

Think devolution . . . if you want to spiral . . .

and please don't bring up the failed-essay deal

as if you default aspire to fragmentation . . .

If only counters zeroed-out

maybe you wouldn't . . .

Wouldn't what? . . .

There will be no retrospection today . . .

or tomorrow . . .

That was then, yes? . . .

Try the trip-wire

re-creating or recreating the page

with clips from a different genre . . .

Which is? . . .

You know, prose poems mimicking oral storytelling . . .

Yes, and so begins the mismatch:

a minute ago you were 25 . . .

and now? . . .

I suppose preponderance . . .

That makes no sense . . .

And here comes Stanislavski's An Actor Prepares . . .

That neither . . .

OK, how about to the manner born

with yourself inside yourself . . .

filling notebooks

using the Leonardo Encryption App

day in day out . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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A discomfort has crept into the scene . . .

OK, but what's going to happen will happen, yes? . . .

Tell me, have you packed a picnic lunch? . . .

We hold our breaths as companions of the dying

and zoom in to color-code innuendoes

tabled from past table-reads . . .

There was a beginning

something bespoked as is so often the case

in this word-flurried world

with dwellings conjured from sand . . .

You're about to reserve your spot in the moment

which will proceed as these moments typically do

approaching a fork . . . and then? . . .

Leila Forés

Screen Dump 183

(reposted from Saturday, February 14, 2015)

. . . the absolute inanity of calling anything a fictional essay.

          - Anne Carson

You talk at length with Keats . . .

You ask about his words which you want to believe

were written in rooms with high ceilings . . .

You ask him to look at what you're working on . . .

He says he will . . . but then runs out of time . . .

There is no way back . . .

You worry the final exam . . .

Later you are able to define infidelity to your satisfaction . . .

though it isn't . . .

Strange how quickly the principled departs

and leaves you in the middle of a busy intersection . . .

sans lines . . .

Have you forgotten to call the plumber about the leaky faucet? . . .

I thought so . . .

The voice of God sounds human, yes? . . .

It's nothing . . . just the reluctance to admit the fool . . .

And your obsessions? . . . Are they reality? . . .

Shouldn't they be? . . .

If the problem is systemic . . .

Yes! Yes! I know . . .

But then when was the line actually crossed? . . .

You mean crossed so that we both knew? . . .

Your words float downstream . . . farther and farther . . .

Sarah Moon