Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Nate Maxson Implores Your Paper Moon in the Radiating Summer not to Fold Like a Failed Polaroid

A Brief History Of The Eventual

The blood-smell does so excite us
Following it in infrared through skyless forests
Unknown animals: thee and thou, me and you, king and queen, ditch and spring

Just to be sure, I’ll be obvious about my intentions

There are witches beneath the frozen Earth
Their veins shot out like the roots of gnarled Lilacs
We dreamed
Or vice versa
Sirens/ swans
Songs
Fell from storms like slow winters
First I walked barefoot through the weeds
And then the forest grew,
Twisted higher than ashy Eden
Whose wounds I chronicle as reductions to ultraviolet night

Those of you listening through these veils of wire and time discontented
Let me see
Your paper moon
Like I did the first time,
Brighter than the protest of a thousand howling pyres




Heartland, Age 12

The cornfields we used to steal from,
A few ears at dusk

I remember
How cold the rain was

The end of summer
Radiating
Like a dark green river dreaming




Wingspan/Post-Flight Measurements

A vast act of remembrance, this
The Blizzard Forever, 1989 to 2017 (so far)

You hardly notice
The wingspan spreading overhead
I assume
A deliberateness to the motion

Dark water in small amounts
That’s your vaccination
Against exposure kid, against the cold
Folded like a failed polaroid

It could be a dream
I’m in conversation with
But whose?
There’s no great comfort
In the sterile clockwork mathematics of all this
Of course the machinery could be perfected eventually
But it’s less interesting than leaving the grit inside to eat up the gears
I prefer to think in terms of catastrophe, in terms of thirst
A choral ode, a downturn: saltwater in a moon-white teacup
Mistaken for light and sipped with a civilized grimace
Whatever it is that makes you feel better
The etymology will be painfully obvious
Most of the time I measure it in dents and bruises
Compared to the last crash landing
What heals tallied next to what doesn’t
Except on some dusks when I am spectral, uninhibited and wounded
X-rayed till I hiss:
Dancing slow in the thinning shade alone
This way
The divide
Before it disappears,
Before a world begins

A déjà vu is etched in sudden snow


Nate Maxson is a writer and performance artist. The author of several collections of poetry including 'The Whisper Gallery' and 'The Age Of Jive", he lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Daniel Y. Harris in the Cytokine Storm with Eugenic Nanocapsules to Fight the Body Snatchers

Exergue XXI 

Sal Dracu’s cybercult peaks in lipograms, eber aural,
his mode d’emploi wrong as divagari. Radio splice option, next
exit. Mimicker out. How many ears are sautéed? We mean
corpus cavernosum not palladic trinkets. Better
augment klipspringer jump mod.  H2-infused droplets
ionize beams. The Oulipians kill their queen with Atreus’
cuckold seed. Lucretian particles burst. What catachresis?
What pun? Start with pubococcygeus muscles
on the pelvis floor. BINA48 loves man buns. Bodies
have their aisthesis. Geotia’s black magick is creosote
on taffeta or symplegma left by idlers. Filibuster the bill 
and salvage ancilia. It’s heart is cardiomyopathic.  
No sloping or queasy joints, no slouching rafters and sills. 
Quantal, the mated pair. 766 filial piety docs or Paramin’s
blue devil odes? Not this time, Sal. Torture a derash. Bit
sigodlin or oblique, aren’t we? Line 382: printf(“[scanner]
FD%d error while connecting = %d\n”, conn->fd, err). Role
play coincidentia oppositorum, oralé esse. Slake our thirst
in Willendorf stone. Egad, nobody ogles Sal’s
goder. Naubolidos, best shape. Pass da blunt. Actants
in this set are hoes. Darkland pimps stoke cyanide fires.
What prion? Sal’s index finger is a burnt geode.
Point MF. In the prequel he’s vampyroteuthis infernalis.
Model conversions are PrPC. Too late for overcloaks.




 Exergue XXV 

Gregor’s libtard is Loyd Blankenship. Transphobia
as foregone bacronym for 4chan. In lacteal goo, NRx hunt
old skool SJWs. Our spiritus mundi is hoarse and sibilant.
O Antiphons, cluster the bloodaxe. Body snatchers
pose, supplant their cognates and down licorice water
with catalpa buds. Their motto, ars longa vita brevis.  
The Doomsday Clock tocks in goldtrace, counterheaved.
Aint be dupont, no lawd, cain be honeypot or a goon’s club
trot, styling polezniye duraki. Nothing for the roar, bufera
infernal! Thinair modifications bolster alveoli, choked
by classicism. Analyze this, regressus, the swerve
from masculized eugenics. Where are the demobilized
conscripts? Adapting a treatment for Tay-Sachs disease.
Line 456: printf(“[scanner] FD%d finished telnet
negotiation\n”, conn->fd), or doctores angelici. Gregor’s
lysosomal storage disorder accumulates gangliosides
and glucocerebrosides. “Bugger NeoGauchers,” chortles
Gregor. “Our industry is feminized in potentielle.”  
Blame torsion dystonia for exeunt omnes. Shebang, homie,  
all in for hagall runes and Kreuzzug gegen den Gral. Gregor
wins the Pastores Medal for his work in Trans-Gödelian
Kripke Semantics. Who’s bijective? Thetica’s homo superior
crowdsources trivia. Chance tires God. Death’s
Head Units march in pulpy dram. Take two nanocapusles
with DNA for a more resistant human. Not on psalteries,
but in bloodstock and cytokine storms.



—Daniel Y. Harris


 “Exergue XXI & XXV” are from the manuscript, The Tryst of Thetica Zorg   

Daniel Y. Harris is the author of 11 collections of poetry and collaborative writing including The Rapture of Eddy Daemon (BlazeVOX, 2016), heshe egregore (with Irene Koronas, Éditions du Cygne, 2016), The Underworld of Lesser Degrees (NYQ Books, 2015), Esophagus Writ (with Rupert M. Loydell, The Knives Forks and Spoons Press, 2014) and Hyperlinks of Anxiety (Červená Barva Press, 2013) Some of his poetry, experimental writing, art, and essays have been published in BlazeVOX, The Café Irreal, Denver Quarterly, E·ratio, European Judaism, Exquisite Corpse, Kerem, The New York Quarterly, Notre Dame Review, In Posse Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Poetry Magazine, Poetry Salzburg Review, Stride, Ygdrasil and Zeek. He is Editor-in-Chief and Co-Founder of X-Peri, http://x-peri.blogspot.com/.