Poetry, Week 33: Joshua Bird

 

Behold the Glorious First Person1


psychopomp’d | from merriam-webster | and the performative | plumes | upright and into the anything | there is something else | in inference and imposition | allowing the per se juice of your crackpot semblance | to malinger onus | I have known the lopsides apart | and for granted until knocked subconscious | this is an attempt | this hour is another | you are an attractive linguist | on the brink of stardom | desire is stuffed back into neon | and there are no more steps to take | toward paradox before I repeat on you | like a moth | er tongue |         

                                                                                                be more flotsam than Eros | the more autonomous the human the more flammable the I | the writing is out of hour hands | comma after comma | the introspectionist pauses | for effect | again and again and again | before committed to memory and denouement | consume art with a literal | tense | a field passes with more | within vision | the one with printing presses | they jut into strange and tjanting landscapes | a further rain continues | philosophy | your daily solipsisms are on the rise | you sit in public to make art | you spit in public | to face art head on | you sit in public to make art face the consequences |

 

 

1or how else do we return to the novel, onlookers continue into kinky philosophical defenestration, laughter in our ajar narration, you are eased out of the blank space and drawn through the sign pointing to X, whole days go about cities, inferring nothing, white noise camaraderie pontificates easily enough into these sentences, you are beginning to be at ease in them as well, but don’t get too comfortable for the ontological minutiae is upon us, in our right now, you watch the dust settle without falling apart, now we are taken to motes and stillness, avoid sunbeams, repeat offenders, reality, there is an ongoing impartial hiatus between two tediums, that is, between two tediums


Joshua Bird is a poet and co-collaborator of Monochromatic Symptoms, an international art project. His work can be found in Lana Turner, Meridian, Denver Quarterly, among others. He lives on the outskirts of Tampa, Florida. For more, please visit joshuabirdpoetry.com