Screen Dump 119

The laundry has moved out-of-state . . .
leaving you with unanswered emails . . . and impossible dreams . . .
Insinuations aside, there will be crossings . . .
and crossovers . . . and crosstrainers . . .
and crossdressers . . .
Yesterday wants to return . . .
and you agree . . . in principle . . .
Your hand was played out in the chorus line at the bar . . .
Your lips - full and optimistic - were synced . . .
with the inoffensive tap selections . . .
and low-cal menu . . .
Your voice has suggested a boxed set of anachronisms . . .
to go with your neon pink lycra shorts and tank top . . .
Do you still love what you loved? . . .
Do you still stalk the fast forward? . . .
If you were to again read these lines . . .
would you be able to disregard the blank pages . . .
the blank stares? . . .
Why do you insist on parsing recycled sentences . . .
when the moments are few . . .
and the stargazers have zipped up their hoodies . . .
for an overnight . . .
an overnight filled with the sadness of gramophones . . .
and the folding/unfolding of the ocean? . . .

Paolo Roversi

Woman XLV

A tit for a tat . . . imagine that
purred the cat . . . listening to Bird
parse Ornithology.

Peter Yang

Screen Dump 118

Why do you . . . jingle your bracelets in mere idle sport?
          - Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener

Peterpanitis . . . in a path-oh-logical game . . . of give and take . . .
a game . . . of thrones . . .
Demanding . . . with pout . . . that he/she play a role . . .
in the latest installment . . .
the latest catch-as-catch-can . . .
with you again as always on top . . . in control . . .
Why should "they" have all the fun? . . .
Balking . . . becoming discombobulated . . .
becoming obsessed with the riddle of opposites . . .
with the out-of-sorts attractions . . .
with the mirror image of requests . . .
tagged in Facebook's trailer park . . .
Is this why the past is still here? . . .
Why they couldn't put Humpty together again? . . .
Something about being frozen . . . in time? . . .
in chain mail? . . .
The emptiness of the final analysis . . .
You expose more than your hand . . .
then tally onlookers . . .
counting birthstones sparkling in the afterglow of your wake . . .
as unconvincing as . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 117

Words are few.
          - Samuel Beckett, A Piece of Monologue

I underline your words . . . capture in charcoal your undulations . . .
Following the path you mapped . . . for others . . .
Blindfolded . . . on horseback . . .
You draw lost causes . . . and lamentations . . . as if nothing . . .
Your bankrupt cereal bowl . . . (pause) . . .
Think of the times . . . (faces turn down) . . .
Seductrix of organ donors . . . unending specimens . . .
For next to nothing . . . even though a county fair . . .
The Aesthetics of Japanese Design . . .
Folding back the corner of the page . . .
Now look at what you've done! . . .
Passing you on the way to the subway . . .
Bags of groceries chatting up jaw lines and other such irreconcilables . . .
Meeting for a bite . . . the spiraling down . . .
Tailspinning with cadavers, yes? . . . Ours so meager . . . yet . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 116

Who in her long melancholy search for her missing children
found . . . another orphan.
          - Herman Melville, Moby Dick

You tag lines from Tracy Chapman's Fast Car . . . for redirects . . .
Your memory not jogged by words . . .
Your midnight rides . . . insufficient . . .
A time and a place . . . for everything, yes? . . .
For us? . . .
You've been known to bend . . .
to accommodate . . . loose canons . . .
and rainy days and Mondays . . .
A role reprised for playback . . .
The forecast old . . . little to prattle on about . . .
excepting the exodus of sunbirds . . .
Road crew bosses hunched over indecipherables . . .
Unwelcomes arrive . . .
You decide to engage a psychic . . .
and will remain, as always, with a houseful . . . of overturned books . . .
and optimistic orphans . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 115

You pace yourself with mediocre red wine . . .
preparing for a trip to Pier 1 . . .
rattan and bamboo having kept you up all night . . .
A Wittgenstein lookalike passes . . . at a loss for words . . .
He waits tables . . . weather permitting . . .
and is the neighborhood Trivial Pursuit Champ . . .
Like Bill Cosby, his real life is more complicated . . .
One day you will forget who you are . . .
Your shoes will switch feet . . .
Your earlobes will droop . . .
You will have become your costume . . .
your reputation discolored by one too many two-night stands . . .
Little matter, I will continue to kick your butt in chess . . .
and serve you bowls of my too-hot soup . . .
and read aloud to you my ho-hum poems . . .
and carry you . . . in the fall . . . to the river . . .
so you can see the Canada geese flying home . . .

Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison

Screen Dump 114

You count out ten paces . . .
You will continue to revisit this . . . in costume . . .
demanding a refund . . . and the capture of irrelevancies . . .
McDonald's wrappers soaking the passenger seat . . .
Your mental acumen . . . naked in the bedroom . . .
answers 20 questions . . .
The eyes in the window . . .
Crowing at dawn . . . Imagine the buzz! . . .
You have rubbed the relationship raw . . . the reality balderdash . . .
A fool channel surfing as an excuse . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 113

Speaking in tongues to besotted dust bunnies . . .
Cutie and the Boxer . . .
Chaucerian . . . with sprinkles . . .
taking you back . . . to the corner eye-candy store . . .
where nightly you'd buy into the theory . . .
of come what may . . .
and risk becoming your costume . . .
nostrils engorged with Cuneiform Days . . .
your version of Blake's unexpurgated
Songs of Innocence . . .
Wild nights should have been your luxury . . .
your legacy . . .
but you were misrepresented . . .
in letters of introduction . . .
wind chimes closeting your empty promises . . .
delivery vans warming up . . .
You expected more . . . we all did . . .
but were left at the crossroads . . . in that movie . . .
most have forgotten . . .

Screen Dump 112

But then the loose ends . . . you know? . . .
with what's his/her name threatening to push the envelope . . .
Your autobiography . . . unplugged . . . off limits . . .
to the general public . . .
and the inscrutability . . . a turn on . . .
maybe even more so . . . for you . . .
It's one thing to say you'll follow through . . .
The audience on the edge of their seats . . .
Of course there will be googling . . .
And you . . . for affect was it? . . . mumbling hints . . .
as only you . . . the quintessential tease . . .
with a twist of lime . . . could . . .
finessing the move as you mirrored yourself . . .
Fragments of ancient statuary . . . cluttering your mind’s walk-up . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 111

A smattering of inconsistencies . . . your hands are not yours . . .
At twelve, you were fingered . . . for something . . .
I'll be right back . . . I need to check the playbook . . .
The solitary cyclist from the sideshow . . .
followed by herds of doubters . . . dressed to kill . . .
You've been identified as a player-at-large . . .
Here's the part where he/she asks a question . . .
The takeaway is anything you desire . . .
It's a type of sleight-of-hand . . . the type we all fall for . . .
The playlist jams . . . the silence dumbfounding . . .
Filling the gaps . . . haphazardly . . . is a cheap shot . . .
You inhale the room . . .
Unbeknownst to the rest of the cast . . .
Who have left the scene (of the crime) . . . in a New York minute . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 110

Lip-sync acts of contrition . . . Sus palabras son mis palabras, yes? . . .
with attitude . . . and opulently attractive subscriber . . .
Practice the left hand first . . . over and over . . .
Over and under . . . the giveaway . . .
The relief . . . neither contented nor plangent . . .
I can see forever! . . .
Continue, please . . . into the next scene . . .
Stem the fat tide of amateurish, insensitive nightmares . . .
As opined by the jilted late night visitor . . . circumnavigating your bed . . .
notebook in hand . . .
Tell me how to lose myself! . . .
Demijohns and pottery bottles . . . notwithstanding . . .
filled with silvery dried honesty . . . and limited repeats . . .

David Leslie Anthony

Screen Dump 109

All the strangers came today . . .
          - David Bowie, Oh, You Pretty Things! (1972)

Hickory Dickory disappeared . . . into a maelstrom of iPhones . . .
And opened with an (under)cover band in Erie, Oklahoma . . .
This is not America! . . .
so you start the day . . . as a whirling dervish . . .
with a promise to be all you can be . . .
Spotted deer join you . . . for a rehearsal at an archaeological dig . . .
It's all very innocent, yes? . . .
Especially the painted pines . . . and the puzzled man . . .
in the corner of the room . . . questioning your motives . . .
You have five minutes . . . six, maybe . . .
You step on the gas . . . and speed away . . .
Between the first and second stanza, you glance at the side camera . . .
This scene will be re-shot . . . n number of times . . .

David Leslie Anthony

Screen Dump 108

And what are you?
          - Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

Is the answer in the laminated hardcovers in the library? . . .
Or with the dust bunnies under the couch?
Are you the eggman? . . .
Haven't you forgotten something? . . .
Why bother? . . .
Have you turned the page? . . .
Or a new leaf? . . .
Do you ever drive around aimlessly? . . .
Or find yourself elsewhere? . . .
Are you in the moment? . . .
Where were you on the evening of the 27th? . . .
Are all your ducks in a row? . . .
Were you able to get a word in edgewise? . . .
What about the tandem? . . .
And the line drawn in the sand? . . .
Do you have a moment to spare? . . .
Or the time? . . .
Would you like to begin again? . . .
Or start over? . . .
Is this a photo op? . . .
Have you ever tried to make do? . . .
Or repainted a room? . . .
Or done the wrong thing? . . .
Or regretted the color of your hair? . . .
Or done enough? . . .
If not then what? . . .
Do you fear being called up? . . .
Or called back? . . .
Where's the finish line? . . .
Is this a good idea? . . .
When was the last time you sang out of tune? . . .
When was the last time you stood up and walked out? . . .
Do you believe in love? . . .
Do you believe in love at first sight? . . .
Do you believe in magic? . . .
Have you ever been left behind? . . .
Or left out? . . .
Or left of center? . . .
Do you like to pick and choose? . . .
Does the end of summer come with a renewal? . . .
Have you ever been caught in a meteor shower? . . .
Or accused of insignificance? . . .
Or shortsightedness? . . .
Is wallowing in pity in your future? . . .
Can you see through bullshit? . . .
Do you listen to mourning doves? . . .
Do you tingle when trees bend? . . .
Is your lexicon up to snuff? . . .
Can you repopulate the stars? . . .
Do you enjoy the sun? . . .
Were you ever a feature? . . .
Have you ever found tears on your pillow? . . .
What about coins in the fountain?
Have you ever put it in reverse? . . .
And claimed otherwise? . . .
Or pleaded ignorance? . . .
Is life passing you by? . . .
Has it passed you by? . . .
Have you been passed over? . . .
Has the past passed? . . .
Do you pine for the passing lane? . . .
Is there no turning back? . . .
Or you-turning? . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 107

You go back . . . and search for lines you know are there . . .
The streets costumed . . . beyond the pale . . .
Taillights of big rigs hum songs your mother sang . . .
Why now . . . when you can see three moves ahead? . . .
The color of checkmate . . . filed under . . . Wait, and see . . .
Trying too hard to think through summer, yes? . . .
The reasons for your enjambment . . . your entrancement . . .
your entrapment . . .
Your eyes as sandwich boards . . .
dancing in the street . . . with whomever . . .
studying the trailer for Coming Attractions . . .
restarting . . . after years of shutdown . . .
Heads up to your father flipping burgers . . . in a backyard of friends . . .
No serious entanglements . . .
From here we can follow bread crumbs . . . back to the way we were . . .

David Leslie Anthony

Screen Dump 106

You fiddle with contextual cues . . . and chunks of raw idiom . . .
Coming up with a surface that's supposed to evoke real life . . .
Methinks you're walking on eggshells . . .
And the conversations - the arguments - we have . . . with ourselves . . .
Testing the waters . . . as traffic speeds past . . . faster then faster still . . .
Orchestrating the fit . . . even on the bleakest days . . .
There's so much more . . . OK, in a weird way . . . but so what? . . .
Asking yourself Who wrote that? . . .
Rereading past exchanges . . . trying to figure out where your head was at . . .
These flip decisions laid the groundwork . . . for you . . . now . . .
Recanting posts? . . . But of course! . . .
Busying yourself with channel surfing? . . .
To say nothing of confusion's seductive fun? . . .
Past players insinuate themselves . . . the heretical nature thereof . . .
You likely thought you could pass muster as one of many . . .
Whatever you say, boss, yes? . . .
Shifting into high gear . . . trolling night stalkers . . .
But what of the provenance of your latest acquisition? . . .
The one you saved your hard-earned pennies for . . . and won on eBay? . . .
Please don't trot out the Bucket List . . . this early in the quarter . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 105

. . . but it's much more.
          - Patti Smith, Dream of Rimbaud

You have become inevitable . . . inviolable . . . transformed . . .
Offhand remarks about spiritual accidents . . .
Open your books to the gazpacho recipe on page 396 . . .
Headstone rubbings . . . at the feet of Percy Shelley . . .
With Gregory Corso, yes! . . .
Illuminations! . . . of course! . . . pellucid . . . strange . . .
On to the lost voyage in Java . . .
It was a very good year! . . .
Comparing notes . . . if only . . .
I wanted to insert an etching . . . she said . . .
and continued taking pictures . . .
of Coney Island rekindled . . . with blinders . . . can you imagine? . . .
You meet for coffee . . . chat old times . . .
populated by players from shipless waves . . .
expect more . . .
Remove the scaffolding . . . jump in . . .
There are only so many hours . . .
Standing on the corner . . . watching all the girls go by . . .
The Mesozoic Era saw the spread of true conifers . . .

Katerina Dmitrieva

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 . . .