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

Screen Dump 133

If you didn't have so many overdue library books on your plate . . .
you'd be better able to face the day . . .
I have a solution! . . .
Introspection is offering buybacks . . .
You've heard, right? . . .
If you wait it out . . . you'll be able to walk in . . . head held high . . .
It's not just architectural mockups, either . . .
You feel uncomfortable . . . perfectly understandable . . .
If I had to wear that Halloween costume, I'd deep-six my journal entries . . .
Who's to know, anyway? . . .
Besides, who cares? . . .
We all have skeletons . . . in our bathtubs . . .
Remember that scene in Psycho, with Anthony Perkins eating a sandwich? . . .
And Hitch outside . . . in profile . . . having a smoke? . . .

Psycho (1960)

Screen Dump 132

Position the player . . . and begin jealousy . . .
Move to the other side of the room . . .
Position yourself . . .
You will be wordless . . .
Watching him/her . . . from the other side of the room . . .
Angle yourself to see yourself in the mirror . . .
Begin doing whatever you have to do . . .
Which of the seven levels? . . .
Do not break your concentration . . .
Watching him/her with him/her . . .
The momentary loss . . .
Leaving . . . with an article of his/her clothing . . .

Lena Olin in The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1988)

Screen Dump 131

Losing track of fiendish departures . . .
You dole out emoticons . . . to the freshly laundered . . .
sampling the sake and sushi . . .
the dining room reeking restoration hardware . . .
You are yellow carded . . .
Fast forward the backups . . .
I want to review the anonymous donors . . .
In black and white . . . it's less distracting . . .
I was foolish to argue the point . . .
Threatening true happiness with a new coat of paint . . .
Some periwinkle mixed in to soften the tone . . .
Easing the players into position . . .
Feeding them arugula . . . and lines . . .
Then moving into the final scene . . .
The one that shatters the glass ceiling . . .

David Benoliel

Screen Dump 130

You learn dance steps . . . and are told you are good . . .
Watching the stillness with the intensity of being out of step . . .
Zeno's arrow never arriving at its target . . .
Your life as instances of stillness . . .
You cannot delete an instant . . .
Ashbery says time is not linear but concentric . . .
The players . . . in sepia . . . viewed as concentric circles . . .
Some take you to ice cream parlors . . . treat you to sundaes . . .
Others squeeze you into costumes . . .
Still others stare blankly . . . shifting in your words . . .
Always on the brink . . . of involvement . . .
Testing the questions . . .
Applying preservative . . . pre-Facebook albums . . .
You worry the fine print . . . the writing on the wall . . .
but go along for the ride . . . for years . . .
Then the hiatus . . .
The traffic signal malfunctioning . . .
You . . . speeding through the intersection . . .

Sarah Moon

Screen Dump 129

Last night, while I lay thinking here
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear. . . .
          - Shel Silverstein, Whatif

You do too! . . . the words - with hair toss - starboard . . .
The player gearing up for the comeback . . .
Start the countdown . . .
Handing in a stack of keypunched Hollerith cards . . .
Waiting for the printout . . .
Plotting the Cartesian coordinates of sexual odysseys? . . .
A scatterplot of encounters? . . .
Developing a mathematical model to fit the data? . . .
y axis = attraction . . . x axis = enjoyment . . .
Parsing enjoyment we find . . . crouching in the corner . . .
excitement and intensity . . .
The higher the attraction the greater the enjoyment . . .
One would think, yes? . . .
Wait! . . . What if they're shooting blanks? . . .
Intervening variable? . . .
Later, you know, the on the shoulders of giants kind of thing . . .
The regression line of best fit . . .
For the best fit . . .
So size matters, yes? . . .
You're kidding, right? . . .
OK, let's test it . . .
But correlation isn't causation! . . .
Please find a tree for me to hide behind . . .
I need a reason for my transgressions! . . .
Well, maybe I don't! . . .
The lost wax process . . . can we use that? . . .
You know . . . fitting the mold . . . so to speak . . .
Sucking them in . . . keeping them guessing . .
What's going to happen? . . . Will I score? . . .
Who's in charge here, anyway? . . .
I am . . . You know . . . like René:
I think (I am in charge) . . . therefore I am (in charge)! . . .

Screen Dump 128

You're having trouble deciphering your scribbles . . .
(this has been happening a lot lately) . . .
and you're being creeped-out by this Billy Joel lookalike . . .
stalking the perimeter of your dreamscape . . .
You're thinking about taking a ballet class . . .
eye on the clock . . .
but worry HIRD (Hip Internal Rotation Deficit) . . .
It's one of those things . . .
like losing your grip . . .
the world becoming dense prose . .
the edges of conversations blurring . . .
the belated departures . . .
the nonexistent always butting in . . .
friendships losing their luster through overhandling . . .
So what about the ceaseless passage of time? . . .
Any consolation there? . . .
Just asking . . .
Were you in the ark with the rest of the lottery winners? . . .
The nuts-and-bolts of walking around the block . . .
Taking in the flowers and condiments . . .
the rhythms of generations . . .
and the secondary nature of wrenching yourself from unwanted others? . . .

NYC Ballet's Wendy Whelan

Screen Dump 127

The good-enoughs were good enough . . . buffed biceps and thighs . . .
Lisped words . . . a turn-on . . .
Playing catch-up to your long-stemmed black lycras . . .
scissoring the elliptical . . .
May I quote your treadmill? . . .
Eyes lock on a different shore . . .
A shore littered with brittle backyards . . .
and Facebook friends . . .
unlined . . . untouched . . . unknowing . . .
Escape routes pumped and GPS'd . . .
A leaf-peeper (by happenstance) . . .
always in the director's chair . . . the driver's seat . . .
the O Captain! My Captain! . . . of the Remote . . .
guided by lyrical insertion . . . narrative jostling . . .
and Mr. Jack Daniel's . . .
high-brow . . . low-brow . . . uni-brow . . .
The emptiness . . . filled with Red Bull . . . and alien others . . .

Charlotte Gainsbourg

Screen Dump 126

You floss judiciously . . . worry unwritten reams . . .
his/her intentions . . .
bulky sarchophagi of approach-avoidance . . .
unresolved past (im)perfect hookups . . . disconnects . . .
the neon stupidity of texts . . .
and the whole Tire Warehouse thing . . .
Where the fuck is UNSEND? . . .
Your pontoon takes on water . . .
There will never be a better time . . .
OCD muscling in:
First you say you do and then you don't . . .
Voices fade . . .
And now this residual avatar . . .
standing next to you in the checkout line . . .
hitting on you . . .
It's a supermarket moment . . . a hit-and-run supermarket moment . . .

Aneta Ivanova

Screen Dump 125

You have mastered the pronunciation of oui . . .
and use it with your shell game . . .
to entice those who have declined residential treatment . . .
The eroticism of suppressed meaning is alive and well . . .
and has mapped your promiscuous bandwidth . . .
on vacation (again) at the shore . . .
You need more . . .
An enigma that will soon fall out of fashion . . .
releasing last-minute tweaks . . . complete with stilettos . . .
An easy mark . . . is headed your way . . .
Of course, the shell game . . .

Herb Ritts

Screen Dump 124

And what excuse might that be? . . .
Lollygagging about . . . tardiness as a come-on . . .
then truth or dare by the pumps . . . on camera . . .
I can only say so much . . .
You have pushed the envelope . . . ooh la la . . .
And now more is a sepia print . . .
with players arranged in quilted silence . . .
I know you love this kind of thing . . .
Especially when this kind of thing involves costumes . . .
and missing pieces . . .
and the chance to play another's role . . .

Gabriele Rigon

Screen Dump 123

The wind no longer billowed in her garments.
          - Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

The attraction replaced by ennui . . .
This of course Proust's narrator . . .
Begin your analysis of Albertine with possession equals erasure . . .
Follow it through flashbacks to a short story . . .
then to yesterday . . .
Pout eclipsed by exoticism . . .
The scene opens with the fourth of seven levels . . .
At a table . . . in a restaurant . . .
I'm all ears! . . .
I retreat to the script . . . but the evidence is foreplay . . .
Stage left with shadows of your former self . . .
in the passing lane on the Bayonne Bridge . . .
along one-way streets . . . with no looking back . . .
Is the interest more than casual? . . .
This is puppetry . . . of the highest order, yes? . . .
Again, the ceiling tiles . . .
But I always made sure I'd enjoy it! . . .
You have come this far? . . .
We can crack this case . . . with further therapy . . .
Crack this case? . . .
Did I say that? . . .
I will consult with the flowers in the vase . . .
Oh, yeah! . . .
Your insistence . . . captivating . . .
Again you will be paid for crossing the line . . .
But first the risotto . . .
on the plate . . . in the restaurant . . .
in the Styrofoam takeaway box . . .
Searching for lost what? . . .
How would you even know? . . .
Your marmishness cover held . . . despite the spandex . . .
at the throwback party of the first part . . .
Entering a makeshift room . . . garments billowing . . .
Bangles (with mantra) leading the way . . . for your erotic other . . .

Screen Dump 122

Who are we, if not . . . an inventory of objects.
          - Italo Calvino

The high rent aisles in the supermarket . . . abuzz with coupons . . .
and other short-term investment loopholes . . .
The he saids and the she saids streaming along Netflix . . .
going at it tooth and nail . . .
with nary a shopping cart between them . . .
comparing metrics . . .
for love and hate . . . love and sex . . . sex and hate . . .
May I say you look absolutely redemptive in that getup . . .
I’ll bet it cost an arm and a leg . . .
You have lubricated the valve trombone's splutterings . . .
and examined - up close and personal - the cash-flow(charts) . . .
You are well on your way to Utopia . . .
despite your fascination with cheat sheets . . . and washed-up unicorns . . .
Of course, there's just so much you can absorb . . .
as the drama continues to unfold . . .
in the small upstate New York hamlet of your choice . . .
So too you . . .

David Leslie Anthony

Screen Dump 121

You played dress-up with expensive lipstick at the Acropolis . . .
Pocketing stones from here and there . . .
Climbing the steep stairs to the upper room . . .
where they had reputedly gathered . . .
Thirteen portraits of doormats . . .
Is it a doormat or a painting of a doormat? . . .
You grew tired of playing a doormat . . .
And smeared lipstick - à la Heath Ledger - to make yourself unfathomable . . .
From moment to moment . . . to evidentiary moment . . .
The steep stairs to the next of seven levels . . .
Preparing for the audition . . . assuming a wilted position . . .
Your livingness eclipsing the precariousness of happiness . . .
I needed to go to CVS to pick up a prescription . . .
The parking lot at the Acropolis was full . . . I was turned away . . .
The nightmare gaining momentum . . .
Stopped and strip searched for stones . . . at McDonald's . . .
Smearing lipstick on Ronald's autographed portrait . . .
I'm not the only one here not making any sense . . .
You too have seen it in the cards she laid out . . .
with the precision of a diamond cutter . . .

Paolo Roversi

Screen Dump 120

The street of mannequins . . . awaits your induction . . .
a Chaos Theory of ho-hums . . .
false starts . . . blind alleys . . .
Players . . . within players . . . within players . . .
have paid their dues . . .
for a peek . . . at you . . . Cinderella of the New . . .
years of abstinence . . . facials . . .
the eroticism of obscure symmetry . . .
Your glass slipper . . . on camera . . . bagged as evidence . . .

Paolo Roversi

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