Screen Dump 104

Alterations aside, the ambiance begs furniture music . . .
The idea here is to replay the hand . . .
return to the scene, the line, the moment . . .
rearrange the room . . .
ride out claustrophobia . . . slouching towards foreclosure . . .
wannabes in hot pursuit . . .
Incidentally, the place settings are chomping at the bit . . .
Ring up the neighborhood grammarian . . .
For reassurance, yes? . . .
Did you expect less? . . .
OK, it's not a bona fide trip to Bountiful . . .
but pretty close . . .
Besides, you have relegated yourself . . .
to the path of least resistance . . .
and now lost souls . . . are lining up . . . for direction . . .
and free grub . . .

Steven Meisel

Screen Dump 103

Recalcitrant memories flood the boardwalk . . .
You opt for a facelift . . .
channeling Charles The Hammer Martel at the Battle of Tours . . .
Don't forget the Cuisinart . . . he said reportedly . . .
And that has made all the difference . . .
The whole food stamp thing . . .
You could have at least prepped me for the EBT . . .
I spilled my guts to the court jester . . .
A mannequin born out of wedlock living on food stamps in an old shoe . . .
Just when it was all about to come together . . . it didn't . . .
These things happen . . . I was told . . . in fourth grade . . .
Reach out and touch someone . . . and make nice . . .
Does good grammar really matter? . . . I mean really matter? . . .
Mind over matter matters little, she said . . .
Then pulled the ripcord for the bigger picture . . .
I was inside-out and upside-down through most of it . . .

Jennifer B. Thoreson

Screen Dump 102

You are a coming attraction . . . hoping for a roundabout . . .
planning your (weekend) getaway . . .
We were into cops and robbers . . . filling gaps in our education . . .
with cans of Reddi-wip . . .
Your trio sang ditties from the Great American Songbook . . .
I made my way through the throng . . .
and around 25 or 6 to 4 . . .
I was lucky enough to score an Eskimo Bar open 24/7 . . .
I believed in you up to the last umlaut . . .
then pride floored it . . . and sped away with nary a nanosecond to spare . . .
You majored in internal affairs . . .
kissing thunderstorms in lingerie ads . . .
tracking forgotten boxcars in sidings . . .
while threatening upheavals in coping mechanisms . . .
International trysts left you speechless at deli counters . . .
You had trouble with branding . . .
No big deal, maestro! . . .
There's a time and place for such levity . . . I'm told . . .

Jennifer B. Thoreson

Screen Dump 101

Your pics of random lives . . . were scanned . . . and planted . . .
in the garden of earthy delights . . .
The fornicators at the gates . . . were ticketed . . .
for presumption . . . for irreverence . . . for smoking in a smoke-free zone . . .
You became a stop sign . . . then a traffic signal . . .
You were written up and out of the series . . .
It was a time of rewrites . . . and inadvertent cups of black coffee . . .
Illegibility was offered . . . in good faith . . .
Rutherford, New Jersey took its toll . . .
Your next portfolio will feature a full-speed-ahead full-bodied conceit . . .
filled with ooh la la's . . . and unlimited seconds . . .

Jennifer B. Thoreson

Screen Dump 100

You pluck days from oblivion . . . some maddeningly repetitive . . .
memorializing them . . . as space . . . full of time . . .
The canvas's thick stretchers . . . tombstone-like . . .
In the painting's silence . . . the noisy tumult of history . . .
Reflecting the language and grammar . . . of cardboard communities . . .
You insist on arm-wrestling with dumb reality . . .
ticking off insignificant others . . . who played a role . . .
in your counter-intelligence phase . . .
The clock sweating the hours . . . jarring yet welcoming . . .
A portal . . . into the moment . . . escaping as a fraying automaton . . .

Daria Werbowy

Screen Dump 99

You begin to tire of the School of General Studies . . .
Read . . . Fill your head . . . Write . . . Rewrite . . .
An amalgam of personas . . .
Frightfully accommodating . . .
As if on a stifling mid-August afternoon . . .
A window onto a palazzo . . . clogged with mannequins . . .
waiting for Q&As . . .
Later, a cache of memories dumps . . .
The next will be 10 furlongs . . . in brightly-colored silks . . .
Have you placed your bet? . . .
You know what the bookmakers are saying . . .
Take in the latest exhibit . . .
The facades . . . in abundance . . . people-watching . . .
Carl (Jung) would be tickled . . .
You can always tap (or lap) dance . . . to engage passersby . . .
Some have grown old . . . unrecognizable . . .
The Lexicon of the Ancients . . . and then some . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 98

Your memoir . . . stalks me . . . disrupts REM sleep . . .
Going on and on . . . and on . . .
Scaffolding giving way . . .
Exposing the true north of your words . . .
Why smooth out the edges? . . .
They were part of it, yes? . . .
The tranquil dance of images . . . paid your way . . .
The trombonist in the wings . . . keys them in . . . resurrects them . . .
refuses the chart . . .
You as hooker . . . in purple pumps . . . replaying the scene. . .
Why the reference to Holden? . . .

Ondria Hardin

Screen Dump 97

The street noise . . . like starched centipedes . . .
Legs! . . . Legs! . . . Legs! . . .
Wait . . . then wait again . . . haunted by the strange . . .
You bleach yourself on the ground floor . . .
Enter the infinite loop of a roundabout . . .
Editing as you go . . . a former doll factory looms . . .
Auditioning torsos . . .
If the shoe fits, yes? . . .
There will be moments . . . with the opening bars of Night Train . . .
No one is running out to sign the next betrayal . . .
As much as you would like to think . . .
about weekend getaways . . .
Perhaps your prayers (?) are making a dent . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 96

Skywriting with hammertoes . . . into the wee-wee hours . . .
Committing hara-kiri . . . to memory . . .
The stew . . . burning a hole . . . in your Face(book) . . .
Blackened rubble adding panache . . .
to the neighborhood . . .
choked with overnight bags, lycras, energy drinks . . .
What better way to spend a day . . . sexting inked gym rats? . . .
A pick-up game of Pick-Up Sticks mystifies some . . .
excepting those negotiating to deprive you . . . of your past . . .
with its incessant meandering . . . and Last Tango . . .

Tim Walker

Screen Dump 95

You're writing a fictional memoir . . . about yourself . . .
Rigorously honest traffic in the street below . . . wants in . . .
There are enough characters for everyone . . .
And they know who they are . . .
floating along on your stream of consciousness . . .
playing tag team hide-and-seek . . .
You begin misquoting yourself . . . a game of mirrors . . .
and discover elements of style . . .
earmarked for bronzing . . .
The excitement of the scrum carries you back to the old neighborhood . . .
Philip Seymour Hoffman's Synecdoche . . .
the soundstage a drug deal gone south . . .
A humorless pharmacist - a woman - will be implicated . . .
Her pink sundress texts passersby . . .
who couldn't care less about the outcome of this poem . . .

Tim Walker

69 Lines Randomly Selected from the 1,822 Lines in the 128 Poems
Composed in my 69th Year Using the Random Integer Generator at
random.org on my 69th Birthday over 3000 Miles from Tintern Abbey

. . . thy wild eyes these gleams of past existence.
          - William Wordsworth, Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

The brush loaded with the hidden rooms . . .
An angry pit bull playing a ukulele . . . beneath your window . . .
I'm about to implode . . . from your latest fashion foray! . . .
Whispering sweet nothings in your bad ear . . .
The word on the street is a memory . . .
in Heti's How Should a Person Be? . . .
Your house slowly slipping away . . .
Or the thought of you . . . in red? . . .
As if it could dance with a throat-singer . . .
Costumed for easy access . . .
Next time . . . follow the script . . . to the letter, as it were . . .
Teeming with comebacks . . . however tardy? . . .
costumed . . . with baguette . . . and vino . . .
What better cinema than the conjugation of opposites? . . .
Pumping iron . . . with fast foodies . . .
The graininess . . . the stolen glances . . .
eager to test their insanity . . .
for those without a voice . . .
Your refrigerator hit the road . . . weeks ago . . .
A Glass cover by Nico Muhly . . .
Buying into the quintessential mismatch . . .
And you return to your former self . . . backing in through the door . . .
Making a fool of yourself . . . again? . . .
Too funny . . .
Toy Story 5? . . .
Becoming unhinged . . . swinging back and forth . . . back and forth . . .
Diagramming sentences . . . guilty of youth . . .
Drawing a business card . . . from the middle of the deck . . .
to avoid the bottleneck at the bridge . . .
He's livid! . . .
at an inopportune time . . .
At least in your electra glide in blue eyes . . .
The building codes are like Mary Magdalene . . .
in the SROs of your childhood composition books . . .
and into the next phase of your intrepid indelible life . . .
Why bother hitching a ride back home? . . .
A seapia dreamscape . . .
Segue to the interview . . . of you . . . by you . . .
on your propensity for clipping coupons . . .
The muses step up to the plate . . .
Items bought online perfunctorily . . .
The Second Unit Director's comic book appeal . . . heating up . . .
The instructions said nothing, yes? . . .
Letting your hair down as an antidote for befuddlement . . .
Just play along, yes? . . .
for custom turntables . . . and such . . .
Or how your lips . . .
Insinuating themselves into your life . . .
name-tagged and color-coded . . .
and other merit badge arraignments . . .
paying the Joker . . . for box-lunch time-outs . . .
can and will be used against you . . .
their angularities the kind that sell . . .
You were always good . . .
You know the feeling . . .
You seem to have seen past the obvious . . .
Or the passage of time? . . .
(Wouldn't want to leave them out, now would we?) . . .
of touching base . . .
influencing the grid . . .
Next to impossible? . . . Not! . . .
The closed-circuit TVs of the 50s spoke nonsense . . .
Why pump brown-baggers with your sing-song voiceovers? . . .
Emails edge into the rangefinder . . .
into a story of recovery . . .
appropriated when no one was looking . . . from the local library à gogo . . .
The rewrite, darker than riddles, upends you . . .
of earmarked loners . . .
I feel compelled to keep reading . . . from here . . .

Tintern Abbey

Screen Dump 94

We all have moments of eighth-grade-slow-dance-stiffness . . .
The tram . . . in a lucrative dreamscape . . .
Here but not here, yes? . . .
Tap dancing in and around words . . .
The players . . . and their steps . . . receding . . .
A Motel 6 accepts applications . . . for the post position . . .
Trying to recapture something lost . . . on the page, the screen, the canvas . . .
Something lost . . . somewhere . . .
And you . . . hammering, drilling, patching . . .
One gets exhausted with repairs . . . begins to dismantle the illusion . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 93

Imagining the gazebo . . . the afternoon wet with lemonade . . .
the all-but-naked doubts . . . cast aside . . .
Rummaging . . . then rummaging more . . .
Your Book of Days unfolding . . . its momentum abrupt . . .
This is a work of fiction . . .
Of course, you make your way through . . . to the last dot-com . . .
I can think of nothing . . . but the aftertaste . . .
the moments before you were up . . . and onto others . . .
Have you considered remapping . . . the palms of your hands? . . .
You too will be blind-copied . . . and shared . . .
deconstructed . . . longlisted . . . and all that . . .
Perhaps . . . some day . . . you will revisit the remains of that day . . .
Is it ever too late to drop from a cloudless sky? . . .

Denise Grunstein

Screen Dump 92

You worry throwaways . . . and the integrity of string bikinis . . .
The line drawn in the sand . . .
Updating your calendar with past liaisons . . . from the Land of What Was . . .
Tomorrow will be by-invitation-only . . .
for all who fail the unveiling of the obelisk . . .
inscribed with your internal dialogues . . .
Your eagerness steps up to the plate . . .
resisting the urge to cliché . . . in Looney Tunes . . .
Everyone is calling for hasty pudding . . .
Several have taken flight as late-model catchphrases . . .

Freja Beha Erichsen

Screen Dump 91

As if inhabiting another's body . . . and advancing to the Seventh Level . . .
The accoutrements of attachment? . . .
The fit and finish? . . .
You were caught . . . in the act . . . lip-syncing . . . faking it . . .
Head thrown back . . . into the odyssey, yes? . . .
So tell me . . . about the friend of a friend of a friend . . .
The players . . . and their parts . . . Indeed! . . .
With no intention of more? . . .
Reaching back for the fat atoms of a Melville . . .
The drama's done . . . All are departed away . . .
The great shroud of the sea . . . Wait! . . . Wait! . . .
Testing . . . 1, 2, 3 . . . Testing . . . 1, 2, 3 . . .
Later still . . . you will . . . again . . . be mesmerized . . .

Dorith Mous

Screen Dump 90

Your mouth plays house with a conflict of interest . . .
The one you chatted up last night . . . before you were spirited away . . .
This seems to suit you . . . little concern for the moment . . .
Slathering SPF-60 on your hot spots . . .
What exactly are you referring to? . . .
Everything seems to have a caveat . . .
Once upon a time I feared nothing . . .
Your soliloquy is being edited for irrelevancies . . .

Screen Dump 89

Intrigued by costumes . . . as always . . .
The intricacies of assemblage . . .
of making do with lost and found . . . and lost again . . .
You knew the items that qualified . . .
But you wrote them off . . . and pressed Send . . .
There will be talk . . . you know . . . down the road . . .
As expected, yes? . . .
To your dismay . . . he/she presented . . . with paper flowers . . .
A 180-degree pantomime . . .
Then moved away . . . to return . . . every year . . . for summer stock . . .

Deborah Turbeville

Screen Dump 88

What if one prefers deadpan to domesticity? . . .
Or the passage of time? . . .
Evidence the layered look . . . the look of the other . . .
Driving nails into foreign objects as well . . .
You refuse insignificance . . . stab at salads . . .
A watering-down of attributes . . .
Walkouts are not uncommon . . . at this point . . .
Imagining re-entry you chat up seasonal changes . . .
and how if he/she embraces the timeworn . . . the frequency overridden . . .
Some are colorless, bloodless, ageless . . .
Rawboned . . . with spiked hair . . . chopped not trimmed . . .
Cloaked in Noh drama . . .
Is the spinning you or the room? . . .
Upstaged . . . again . . . as outlined on page 145 . . .

Deborah Turbeville

Screen Dump 87

Floating the alphabet . . . sorting letters by propinquity . . .
Pockets bulging with bipolarity . . .
Passersby pondering evening meals look askance . . .
Always maybeing . . . taking a nosedive . . . slipping out the back door . . .
The guard on restroom break . . .
If only I had held it together . . .
Yes, your candor is splendid . . . unintentionally wholesome . . .
Walking the dog through miniscule neighborhoods . . .
Reeking in-law apartments . . .
A certain multiple-choice question tracking your movements . . .
Especially those having to do with offshoots . . .
I coulda been a contender . . .
The expanded version available for a limited time . . .
Unavailable to non-subscribers . . .
You have failed for a nominal fee to wonder why once too often . . .

Deborah Turbeville

Screen Dump 86

You enter a room . . . forget why . . . read . . . then not . . .
The dumbness of the day . . . of putting one word in front of another . . .
Of putting your hands in your pockets . . .
Of putting your hands in his/her pockets . . .
The intimation of intimacy . . .
Of finding someone's clothes in your closet . . .
Of finding someone on the other side of the bed . . .
Have you forgotten about the tickets . . .
the quart of milk . . . low-fat . . .
the gestures . . . out of balance . . . of yet another day? . . .
The loneliness of long distance running . . . past freshly mowed lawns . . .
the scent of green filling your nostrils . . .
You can't wait . . . to tell someone . . .
To re-string the instrument . . . unplayed for far too long . . .
A question of sooner or later . . .
Your own wish to become a blankness . . . forestalled . . .

Saskia de Brauw

Screen Dump 85

You pass through me . . . through others . . . and into another world . . .
The easy sway of either/or . . .
The pretense of fanaticism . . .
Your hands messaging . . . writing inked legs out of the scene . . .
Convulsions torquing the body . . . catch and release . . .
catch and release . . .
The camera's panoramic view . . . from across the room . . .
from across the years . . .
You venture a costume . . . worry semantics . . .
hanker to tell the next person you meet . . .
but then . . . on second or third . . . rewinding . . .
smudging the spoiler . . .
eulogized in Confessions of a White Widowed Male . . .
What better way to catapult? . . .
Looking at you . . . seeing themselves . . .
The new avatar is indeed a better fit . . . for the new you, yes? . . .

Guido Argentini

Screen Dump 84

Obsessing over line breaks . . . and selfies . . . walking the runway . . .
in tees and baggy shorts . . .
Everything akimbo . . . in the camera . . .
As it should be, yes? . . .
Transposing overtime hours . . . for incidental streetwalkers . . .
texting continuing education customers . . .
Kicking back . . . for the sake of monkeyshines . . .

WAMC Fun(d) Drive . . .
1-800-323-9262 . . .
1-800-323-9262 . . .

How often to recalibrate makeovers? . . .
To engage classic finger puppets from TV's Golden Age? . . .
And to think you filled several notebooks . . . with choreography notation . . .
mixed later into Facebook fudge . . .
overwriting identical scenes . . . from interim corner stores . . .
I know . . . you could have danced all night . . . and you did! . . .

Gabriele Rigon

Screen Dump 83

Your erotic other made the front page . . .
A ménage à trois in toyland . . .
Well . . . not really . . . but . . .
the bag of groceries on the counter . . .
had it in for you . . .
and answered a few rhetorical questions . . .
Your recipes were seized . . .
and earwormed . . .
your memoir is up up and away . . .
Finding meaning in the darndest places . . .
is always on the tip of your tongue . . .
Think of the good times! . . . Scads! . . .

Ondria Hardin

Screen Dump 82

You no longer walk the imaginary streets of commuter bicycles . . .
the streets of blackened windows . . .
the streets teeming with unidentified flying people . . .
Your refrigerator hit the road . . . weeks ago . . .
You need a break . . .
A time-out room . . . of your own . . .
A place to rethink thoughts . . .
Yes, we've read your messages on the rocks . . .
and tagged passages for re-reads . . .
The summer has emailed your invitation . . .
Your sandcastle . . . a halfway house . . .
filled with linen . . . and run-on sentences . . .
awaits your admission . . .
You can hardcopy your books there . . .
and gift summer people . . .
who wander the dunes with metal detectors . . .
in search of lost episodes . . .
The image in the mirror wants to take you shopping . . .
for the costume you climbed out of . . at the responsible party . . .
where you were fingered for obsessive crayoning . . .
What a trip! . . .
Bring on the appetizers! . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 81

Forwarding email addresses as a way of touching base . . .
They come and go . . . come and go . . .
Following desire lines . . . I suppose . . . through the darkness of chapters . . .
Mapping the squalls in relationships . . .
You are so close . . .
Your tomatoes did 90 seconds with Dr. Oz . . .
Your tank top was a runner . . . up . . .
Will the summer be a one-piece or a two-piece? . . .

Bianca Stone

Screen Dump 80

Does anybody really care?
          - Chicago

You've hopscotched past the point of no return . . .
Standing on your head? . . .
Your house slowly slipping away . . .
Your signed copy of The Complete Poems of John Donne . . . ditto . . .
You are not alone . . . again . . .
You have installed an OED  app . . .
and submitted a proposal to an RFP . . .
A muted palette awaits your random keystrokes . . .
Your project to interview retired earworms is on hold . . .
What about the conifers you tagged . . .
on your road trip along Highway 51? . . .
They're waiting for the green light . . .
I've heard you've agreed . . . to ditch the handbag . . .
the moleskin notebook . . . the conundrum nesting on your bedpost . . .
Are you sure you're OK with that? . . .
Your wish for an elemental calm . . . has been duly noted! . . .

Bianca Stone

Screen Dump 79

In spite of all, some shape of beauty moves away the pall from our dark spirits.
          - Bianca Stone

A complimentary glass of wine . . . and you are happy with the grape . . .
You had hoped to escape the weekend but it arrived . . . with extended play . . .
and now your car is barking . . . and you refuse to make the best of it . . .
Practicing with crayons has brought you here . . .
To this place of accidental Hamlets . . .
where tragic refrigerators with doors ajar pucker front stoops . . .
How can you continue to pump iron . . . with headlights as fact checkers? . . .
Does it bother you that your tank top is doing all the talking? . . .
I've seen you here before . . . so why the wide-eyes . . .
appropriated . . . from the local library à gogo . . . when no one was looking? . . .

Bianca Stone

Screen Dump 78

And though the news was rather sad, well I just had to laugh.
          - The Beatles, A Day in the Life

You're disinclined to collaborate with biopics . . .
Citing no wish to have images explain your text . . .
Next to impossible? . . . Not! . . .
You put in for a 17-year hiatus . . . and threaten a walkabout . . .
then segue to a meditation . . . on fantasies . . .
Toy Story 5? . . .. . .
Stepping out . . . of your comfort zone? . . .
Without the necessary paperwork? . . .
For shame! . . .
Ninepins fail stress tests, you know . . . but who cares? . . .
Your spellcheck's Cupertino Effect has got you in hot water . . . again!. . .
Next time . . . Oh, there won't be a next time? . . .
Said the spider to the fly . . .

Patrick Demarchelier

Screen Dump 77

A foreign movie moment . . . à la Jung's personal unconscious . . .
Unexpectedly riveting . . .
Several books tucked into the bedside . . . a late night tête-à-tête . . .
Someone with a puzzled look says something about the lighting . . .
Morandi still lifes color the corners . . .
following a sojourn to 7-Eleven . . .
where textures continue to speak to us . . .
The subtle convergence of you . . . centerfold . . .
donating part of your welcome to unsaid promises . . .
lurking behind the lilacs in the front yard . . .
pneumatic hammers going up against pro bono ball handlers . . .
Your exiting in the middle as directed by one of your many admirers . . .
Settle down? . . . Poppycock! . . .

Patrick Demarchelier

Screen Dump 76

A tollbooth in your gut . . . and you are religioned . . .
sampling the steps . . . to a confessional . . .
where you . . . in 25 or fewer words . . .
spin tales of toil and trouble . . .
The rule book disintegrates . . .
Elementary particles fly around the room . . . lodge in your tantrum . . .
jolt the body into words . . .
Despite your self-abnegation . . . you have the gist . . .
You can always buy out . . . or be bought out . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 75

Losing yourself . . . in the unbearable lightness . . .
Leaving marginalia . . . at all hours . . . in a dead language . . .
Your sadness . . . a three-ring binder . . .
Waiting to be sprung . . . from the hoosegow . . .
with Facebook friends . . . there when you were . . .
A mystic . . . robed in an earthy palette . . .
coloring the shore-lapping waves . . .
Happiness has been asking around . . . looking for you . . .
and will find you . . . on opening day . . .
pinch-hitting . . . in a double-header . . .
The crowd . . . always the crowd . . . on its feet . . .

Freja Beha Erichsen

Screen Dump 74

Eloping with a plastic horse in the not-too-distant future . . .
Nights of entrepreneurial fantasies . . . and bone-dust . . .
the morality police on doughnut break . . .
Finding yourself mired in old habits? . . .
Perhaps you should cut back . . . on the insinuations . . .
the invocations . . . the intrusions . . .
on your propensity for clipping coupons . . .
from the flyers blizzarding the stairwell . . . lawsuits swooping down . . .
Yes, retreat to your domesticity . . .
to your panoply of impressions . . .
little-girl-lost . . . dominatrix . . . intermediary . . .
single-malted . . . primed for rewrite . . .
Forget the bed-head . . .
Your optic nerve knows better than anyone . . .
Including the homebrew crew . . . most of whom have become homebound . . .
paying the Joker . . . for box-lunch time-outs . . .
waiting to deplane . . . and begin . . . again . . .
As the mind gently bloats . . . it will all come into focus . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 73

But you said M-E-T-A-P-H-Y-S-I-C-A-L . . .
with hurricane asides . . . and aspirin(g) temps . . .
Not to be duped . . .
Not to feel the pressure of the curtain call . . .
Categorizing thumbnails . . . surreptitiously . . .
Then posting to Facebook . . .
Some have been retrieved . . . recycled . . . rekindled, even! . . .
A brief history of machines, yes? . . .
Awaiting your signature . . .
Your dreams of boredom in the present moment . . .
A cavalcade of tenses . . .
Speaking-in-tongues . . . for those without a voice . . .
Fondling your depression . . . as if tweaking . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 72

You've muted the video . . . chugged a Red Bull . . .
pressed Stoner  into hands-a-plenty . . .
In the thrall of the latest, yes? . . .
Distracting us from the anguish of our inner lives? . . .
The anguish of Days of Our Lives? . . .
Many prefer the heaven of a false religion . . .
I've tired of color-coding the hours of pumped-iron . . .
P90X-ing away the mood swings . . .
Alternating subtleties with highlighting . . .
Tweet the food network . . . for closure . . . and retribution . . .

Screen Dump 71

The enchanting cosmos . . . of the dressing room . . .
The ultimate in gymnastics . . .
angularities . . . contours . . . convolutions . . .
Noodling as movement . . . as improvisation . . .
as just plain winging-it . . .
Rearranging (?) molecules . . .
unveiling sights, sounds, tastes . . . with your bag of tricks . . .
your enigmatic coat of arms . . . your magic . . .
Mixing the now . . . piece . . . by piece . . . by piece . . .
Everyone a star-struck star . . .
Everyone a closet something-or-other . . .
The show to go on . . . with or without . . .

Cabaret (2014)

Screen Dump 70

Trafficking in embellishments . . . to enhance palatability? . . .
As a CIA grad in checkered chef pants . . .
Providing expert testimony on condiments . . .
You have discovered the power of the tongue . . .
This . . . a delightful sidebar . . .
How often to get the maximum benefit (nodding off in the corner)? . . .
Sublimation: A User's Guide . . .
DJ'ing at your favorite club . . . dismissing quandaries . . .
There will be hell to pay . . .
Pesky offshoots . . . hacked . . .
Think backgammon . . . or Parcheesi . . .
You have linked the rulebook to memory sites . . .
Flagging Step 1 through Step X . . .
Jotting notes in reverse script . . . imagining the mirror . . .
and the surface . . . and the convolutions . . . of the body . . .

Screen Dump 69

The body below the surface . . . as deep . . . deeper . . . deepest . . .
Tracing the image . . . in hieroglyphics . . .
Your seductions . . . the beauty of the gesture . . .
Walking . . . as if no one . . . or everyone . . . is listening . . .
Interrogating the rain . . . to find solace . . .
in fortune's half-smile . . .
in the choral singing wafting in . . . sotto voce . . .
Outwardly . . . everything copacetic . . .
The feeble attempt to escape . . .
Your long arms . . . a semaphore . . . signaling . . .
from an archaeological dig . . . where too much has been unearthed . . .
As if, yes, I too . . . have been victimized . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 68

Low-flying incubi . . . slip past your naiveté . . .
morphing into anonymous flights of fantasy . . .
through back-door labyrinths . . . costumed . . . non-forwarding . . .
clubbing . . . with hometown favorites . . .
who off-nights blow town . . .
leaving you stringing memories into necklaces of prayer beads . . .
You have re-upped for a tour of Facebook . . .
with interim partners . . . slotted for make-believe . . .
Bless me, Father, for I have . . .
again . . . and again . . . and again . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 67

The marks on the floor designate your movements . . .
There are marks on the floor designating your movements . . .
The marks on the floor . . . are they your movements? . . .
The rationale will become as clear as the marks . . .
Just play along, yes? . . .
OK, I understand ties that bind . . .
Seriously, though . . . with bated breath . . .
You assumed the role . . . embraced it? . . . for how many years? . . .
Next time . . . follow the script . . . to the letter, as it were . . .
To the letter writer . . . if need be . . .
To the underwriter . . . bankrolling your role . . .
To the undercurrent . . . carrying you to secret rooms . . .
brimming with autoeroticisms . . .
Really? . . . Can you tell the difference . . . once you're seized? . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 66

You try to tease a narrative out of the earwormed tune . . .
Putting words to music, yes? . . .
His/her words . . .
Materializing late at night . . . keeping you up . . .
The failed metric . . .
Running the numbers . . .
Naming things . . . to possess them . . .
Morphed into a diorama . . .
With you as principal unprincipled player . . .
Cutting the Gordian knot . . . binding the two . . .
Leaving you speechless at checkout . . .
The inevitable pileup . . .
You penned the lines . . . then lost them . . .
They're here . . . somewhere . . .
They have to be . . .
You can't help but search . . .
for meaning, hidden intentions, what have you . . .
And still at it, yes? . . .

Screen Dump 65

Unread pages fly past . . . corners folded . . .
How could you have missed so many? . . .
Element collectors thin the air . . . with regrets . . .
small, medium, large . . . extra large . . .
Periodically, a table is turned . . .
the adjacency sputtering search engines . . .
Your past . . . appears at the door . . .
costumed . . . and ready . . .
Reshoot the desktop scene . . . x+1 times . . .
For the fun of it, yes? . . .
Little will happen inside the Russian novel . . .
that has not already happened . . . to you . . .
You hop on your tricycle, backpedal . . . stall for time . . .
preparing your opening . . .
You have 60 seconds . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 64

Trying to get it all down . . .
The people . . . artificially illuminated . . . barely moving . . .
awash with languor . . .
Continents apart . . . but not estranged . . .
You know the feeling . . .
Obsessively bookish . . . in sumptuous robes . . .
The Jaguar XJS . . . strumming gloomily along the boulevard . . .
answering retro prayers . . .
in the order they were received . . .
converting them to vinyl . . .
for custom turntables . . . and such . . .
This is all part of immortality, yes? . . .
You are here . . . now . . . later . . . where? . . .

Tilda Swinton  in Only Lovers Left Alive (2014)

Screen Dump 63

You worry portraiture in an age of abstraction . . .
The narrative . . . reductive . . . unreliable . . .
omitting the minor albeit valuable occlusions . . .
as in the convenience of a convenience store . . .
Irrevocably ascertainable . . .
Yes, include that in your little purple moleskin . . .
You have erased all nuance with your prefigured reportage . . .
What to do now? . . .
Not nearly as obscure or unnoticed . . .
Your world as being ever-so-slightly askew . . .
Have you attracted big names to your stable? . . .
Hand-held cameras, by all means! . . .
You ended it, after encouraging multiple interpretations . . .
with your carefully orchestrated texts . . .
Intimidation feeds trashing, yes? . . .
Nonetheless, you remain a perspicacious analyst . . .
At least in your electra glide in blue eyes . . .

Hailey Clauson

Screen Dump 62

You find zodiacal fantasies intriguing . . .
the creepy violins . . .
the dowagers with heads full of strangers . . .
There are 20 people at this table . . .
name-tagged and color-coded . . .
Who are they? . . .
Why are they here? . . .
The game of chance . . . out the door . . .
You picture your dream house . . .
and hope that he/she will agree . . .
The building codes are like Mary Magdalene . . .
They require a full head of steam . . .
Strange but you could swear . . .
you've been here before . . .
Your feet seem to know their way around . . .
even in these tight shoes . . .
which you regret wearing . . .
Outside, the moon keeps getting bigger . . .
Soon it will threaten the oldest members . . .
of the household . . . who drink tea . . .
out of complimentary Census cups . . .
You've had some great tutors in your time . . .
kindly attentive in their ministrations . . .
and hope they will hear of your admiration . . .

Paulina Otylie Surys

Screen Dump 61

Your advanced degrees in truthiness . . .
blow away the competition . . .
Picnicking at this stage may be iffy . . . but what the hell . . .
When Reveille sounds . . .
Where will you be? . . .
Where will I be? . . .
Where will we be? . . .
Pick one . . .
Moments like these arrive . . . ever so flimsily . . .
And do not hang . . . trust me . . .
Please don't trot out those timeworn harbingers . . .
You have more important ___ to ___ . . .
You owe it to yourself . . .
And to the memory of your shades of gray . . .
In the mirror with your multiple personalities . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 60

Arresting in your DIY raingear . . .
Talking . . . then not . . .
About the uninformed . . .
Searching for gold rings from childhood carousels . . .
You flick a match . . . geese trail . . .
a downward, vertiginous drag . . .
scaring the hell out of the neighborhood . . .
on trial for lassitude . . .
I choose not to believe in malaise . . .
and why should I . . .
especially when lonely newhires . . .
scale skyscrapers . . .
regurgitating lexicons of bad French? . . .
So what if acting is lying? . . .
Again, who is this week's designated optimist? . . .
Can you please pick up the pace? . . .
I'm about to implode from your latest fashion foray! . . .
smoke and mirrors . . . smoke and mirrors . . .
In the company of magicians . . .
Damn, that was, yes? . . .

Paulina Otylie Surys

Screen Dump 59

You venture beyond the line à la Agnes Martin . . .
Conversation flattens . . .
A stranger squeezes through the chink in your consciousness . . .
This is a change . . .
The colors of your palette . . . double . . .
influencing the grid . . .
Making notations in a purple unlined moleskin notebook . . .
late at night . . . with a glass of pinot noir . . .

Agnes Martin

Woman XLIV

Her password-protected entry
emails invitations
to insignificant others.
I fancy myself an algorithm.

Diego Indraccolo

Screen Dump 58

An alcoholic sky takes you on a tour of promises . . .
and players from long ago who failed to make the grade . . .
A neon calm . . .
surprisingly as incredible as overdue library books . . .
among flotsam . . .
Break out the crayons! . . . time tunnel time! . . .
Decked out in the latest . . .
excepting of course those with doll-like countenances . . .

Charlotte Gainsbourg

Screen Dump 57

Your dream of speed skating skins . . .
A cautionary tale . . . consequential . . . prophetic . . .
with some reckoning . . . unduly noted . . .
Consider this moment costume . . .
etched on the back wall of a makeshift lean-to . . .
tucked deep among evergreens . . .
You have become a stranger to no one . . .
reeling from a succession of stand-up comics . . . in short order . . .
Not unlike a town hall wrap-up, yes? . . .