THE BLACK-AND-WHITING OF THE RED-NECKING
I was thinking good things
when I turned bad,
When I went off and
left the coastal yaw for the
icky-thump inner-tubing of this
spit & spat conurbation, the
roasting lamb gracefully steps aside for the
colour-coded deposits of vegan chewings,
The newfound efficacy of mine bowels!
Not a small improvement, but what
penetration of this ruling-code, I’ll never
laugh again without a wary sideways glance,
The skin-piercing stare of the selfie-righteous
falling over backwards for a clear-screen-shot of the
blunt & blameworthy
Barbarians inside the gate
I ONCE KNEW
When you’ve finished saving the
money you earned being the man
you never wanted to be
email me,
We can shine for a day or so,
Bring the Citroen, not the dog,
Bring the Gauloises, not the pipe,
I’ll present as Lauren Bacall,
Wear the Borsalino,
I’ll atone for the summer and
splatter lemon on black, the
Valery V neck with sequins,
Be late, be cool,
Be the man
I once knew
HOTEL
In a dreary room on La Rue de la Morte,
On the winter’s most miserable night,
Victor Hugo kills off his protagonist
&
So many sheets tossed out from the seedy
One Great Star Hotel because they’ve
Been shredded and tied into nooses
&
Aspiring actor Marion Morrison takes
A room on the third floor of The Grand,
When he moves out he’s John Wayne
&
Tabloid media throng to the notorious
Chelsea Hotel when a sign is displayed,
‘Rock stars BYO ambulance’
&
A Belarusian brute and his model wife in
London ranting that the bath ‘it’s too small and
we have no fucking sea view!’
A PERFECT 10
Zukofsky hanged himself
In a hangar 2k long,
On a silent night
On a Christmas Day,
The rope of inferior quality snapped,
He’s a heavy dude
Zukofsky dropped onto the unforgiving concrete floor,
This time his arthritic knees
Stood up to the challenge and
He landed like a gymnast dismounting
The uneven bars, scoring a perfect 10,
An impish expression on his chubby face,
He was never one to seek notoriety but
Photographs surfaced and he began wearing polar necks,
Fielding book offers, co-writing essays, talking
To Coppola and Spielberg, all the while
Seeking out
Reliable rope
This blog was the successor to the poetry section of the now no longer existing The Argotist Online. This blog is also no longer active, and is now just an archive.
Poem by Stephen Bett
Novel Lines 101: 101 alphabetical poems, each riffing on the opening line of a postmodern novel or metafiction. Antonio Lobo Antunes, Act o...
-
THE STUDIO The vista which then opened was one I never could’ve anticipated in the Nineties—the PAFA campus was set as a series of jeweled b...
-
EQUATIONS #25 When I converse with N on the phone, in about my thirteenth year, our heads open up together, and we create an imaginative lan...
-
EQUATIONS #26 Audrey, as a tangent to N, took the idea, not of broadcasting gossip but of sharing and disseminating literature, as a fait ac...