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Psychic Memoir

Psychic Memoir

bombyonder or bust

NaPoWriMo #24

all senses lead to fingers pounding

heartily on the typewriter keys

of the temporarily-indisposed cowboy

it seems his drafts yearned for this censorious

eye reexamining who swallowed the beans

and why the skillet shook when it was full

and what woke the belly from the brain

giving it voice with whiteout 

hey cowpuncher

guess you’re not so mighty when

something else does the revising 

 

NaPoWriMo #23

what if i told you that you’d see the past

differently pinned beneath an opulent bay

let it be your shipwreck you learn from

this nowhere to go but deeper 

this too-far extreme, the best place to

revise a manifesto for a malignant recipe

foolish flavors develop mistakes into beliefs

as if hunger was anything other than a prison

you can’t eat everything, but you must hope to

 

NaPoWriMo #22

Your prospects are rotten.

Your prospects are rotten and that’s your relief.

Your source material is not a vegetable.

It’s a midnight snack and it’s substantial.

You come from a monster that crawled out from a glorious cavity.

You are capable of many faces and possess an ability to beget with several eligible sires, as promised.

 

we take a break from our regularly scheduled NaPoWriMo …

to present a NATIONAL POETRY MONTH DEATH MATCH between Jereme Dean and me at HTMLGIANT:

My position:

Do organized NaPoMo efforts make your poetic practices any less valid or artful or subversive? Turn your own poems into gimmicks? If your neighbor makes his poems mainstream, will that turn your poems mainstream? If so, maybe the problem is your weak-ass poems. Poems are supposed to endure.

If your neighbor reads his poem on PBS, will PBS come for your poems next? Save your tin-foil hat for a bigger threat.

versus

Jereme’s position:

For me, authentic poetry is the only genuine form of man’s concept of beauty.

This is why the MFA in poetics is laughably worthless. Why frumps ejaculating every day for a month is egotistical self-aggrandizement. And why professors with unblemished hands analyzing the symbolic merit of a red wheelbarrow is considerably pathetic.

In other words, National Poetry Month is fucking dumb.

NaPoWriMo #21

laugh it up laugh it up laugh it up

hearty medicine from within

reveals our earned self-healing

whatever cures, cures

the necessity that eludes us

laugh it up laugh it up laugh it up

for what eludes us departs

defeated by party chatter

shut up shut up shut up

what we need is to fear

everything coming from within

nothing curses like laughter

shut up shut up shut up

there’s self-loathing roaming 

our veins for comeuppance

 

NaPoWriMo #20

he moved someplace sudden, the moment 

you said don’t stay wrong

he left believing he sped toward righteousness

believed you led him somewhere honest

believed you offered your ability

to find and know logic like an almighty

flood of receipts listing action

but taking those mental turns hurt

filled his head with corners

that nicked and snipped his understanding

into complex meanings

that’s why he’s so sharp

and out to get you

NaPoWriMo #19

if you can forget one lesson

forget how one person experiences the same

gravity differently from another

consider it a lifestyle choice 

like taking pills not to cry

when in doubt think

how easy to ruin a childhood

wedged heaviness like an

industrial accident of grimaces

then treat yourself to some

hush money and buy a

ticket to stone your mind

because you’re still remembering

a slipping meaning, difficult to let go

because there’s no power over

a magical passing memory

only a weighted foaming on your lips

NaPoWriMo #18

from now until loneliness disturbs solitude

you will not hunker waiting for scum-filled

aggression to do for itself what its been

doing to your dirtied, fuzzied face 

oh baby, seeing you return like an angel

straight out of a pelt shop is like

finding a dying conversation embarrassed 

for its lack of absence and wit

amazing how few learn to embrace

themselves, remembering something

more like falling through a trapdoor

instead of wearing a detail as a combination

mustache/milkshake-net

NaPoWriMo #17

everything in the market

burns for what is no more

just like a toaster

imploring its poptart

to return to its hot slot

NaPoWriMo #16

nothing is truly spectacular

all variations on the same

classic rocket ship taking off

ignorant to the millennia of rocket ships

that took off before them

let’s inquire more on this critique

better examine the plastic

weariness of faux advancement

see if we can still stand while

swinging snail-tight predications

those rockets before you were gods

you’re a ship hovering on ancient fumes

inadequacy leads to truth

eureka!

you should blast away

as if you hadn’t heard a word