Category: Found Poem

The mother is very tall corseted formidable but nothing unpleasant ever occurred — All of a sudden a person (servant type) asks do you know what a symbol is — it is something that pretends to be something else You know this woman that you call your mother — she really is “Death” her body… Continue reading 59 – Freud’s Daughter

—anxious, votive, mysterious, and sublime— how color is sex but it’s not enough A task is what I want: to measure the time spent escaping How much violence is there in you today — Do you feel like cleaning, changing, improving, repairing things around you Do you have a strong desire to do some thing,… Continue reading 58 – Like a river always itself

 I mean damn he was flat footed (clear like walking into a sliding door) The Blacker the Berry… A louse and a flea were brewing beer in an eggshell. The louse fell in and burnt herself. This made the flea weep, which made the door creak, which made the broom sweep, which made the cart… Continue reading 57 – Motivated by strawberries

Molten light is trapped. Each work is a little moon. After the collapse, We fell into each other. My back pressed to the rain slick asphalt, I fought desperately against his hand, that wielded my knife. When we meet again, may it be under a new banner, walking in cadence to our common end. THUS… Continue reading 56 – After the Collapse

All swallowing our breath like an expansive cloak of a black sonic abyss, expectant, draping itself around our shoulders settling cool on our neck bones, a thumb on the collar and then suddenly pre-cathedral All this color is hard IVLX]TTMLLW_V_IZL[\IKSMLJaLZWX[ÆWWL[IVL[WWV The Dog is the Brother of the Fox Waiting to Touch the Skin of a… Continue reading 55 – Pre-cathedral

You look really good, you look like you pretended like nothing ever happened, or a Weakening, Black Sonic Abyss, or I do not walk a line that is thin, straight, or secure My oldest memory (likely a dream): I replay this water memory with my eyes closed waiting for the late relief of sleep Where… Continue reading 54 – Indices of Rindon Johnson’s Law of Large Numbers

Ghostly, half recalled, half dreamt, all fearsome. fugitive heiress Patty Hearst I had devoted so much of my girlish daydreams to Rimbaud Io come persona  … “After dinner I go to the Mineshaft.” a regurgitation of a vile substance, the black in the bottom of the glass. To this end, one must knock. in the character of… Continue reading 53 – Adam & Eva

Now I am a lake. In me she has drowned a young girl, The Black Curriculum. Axiom of Indifference Bringing the World into the World Io sono un santo Io sono una carogna Go home, he’s as dead as he’ll ever die. He’s in this box, newly dead. Strange that my fingers tended toward November.… Continue reading 52 – Paradise Lost

Shad: spectransmares meetrispond is beautiful 125 days ago mc: woh 123 days ago james fuentes: what do you think of our new presentation by Nell!?118 days ago Jim Drain: @James amazing 118 days ago yeet: i have dementia bros lol 113 days ago Laura Frantz: Loved “Old in Art School” and am so excited to see your work111 days ago loyd: WTF IS THIS101 days ago… Continue reading 51 – feelings of powerles62 days ago

r-dog: really good show284 days ago galleryvisitor: ana mendieta, by the look of things, may have died in vain. 284 days ago galleryvisitor: i hope that someday women of color will see the justice they284 days ago galleryvisitor: so deserve. ❤284 days ago Jossy: Whaddup Jimmy! 🙂 284 days ago amanda: very cool platform James! Congrats283 days ago admin: Chat is back…277 days ago… Continue reading 50 – This is a guestbook, not a poem