Four Poems

what month are we?

[tab10](for Perec + Beckett, Endgame)[/tab10]

discipline: to abandon a language begin in another is neighbour’s front lawn + discarded furniture rusted joints nibbled gnawed enamel discard-web with legacy concerns tides of brackish coffee tables chipped at its corners small diagrams of granular shapes litter its underside groans + wind shifts that pile that furniture-mountain rises + your neighbour’s self portrait dwarfs the house that extreme excess of search terms + status updates as uncontainable as old couch springs grain of splinters mixes with cotton stuffing a desk a set of drawers || metal of lawn chairs jut into footholds + the neighbourhood races each other to the top grabbing spare cushions always one shelf from summit */ we stealthy emerge each night take one object back for ourselves reupholster it in French /*   excuse me sir, do you know mrs. pennyblossum? walking distance cafe windows open to the street each patron writing a novel || a manual + each typing each person typing in chorus finger-voices sing clone sloppy non-homerow sing across laptop screens sing mp3s sing loops sing clones || reading subscripts||a novel ||a cookbook flip pages simultaneously synced with each array each flip a flap of thunderous wings a gale the wind shoves stirred coffees + apple slice salads loop punctuation in large strings picking bursts pause gusts pause flip pause stir pause peck pause blast pause slice pause binary signals: pages turning || keys clicking   DO YOU HAVE: Hair that feels weighed down? I insist 2in1 cannot stand elevator lag nor the bandwidth of utterance to ears   don’t I know you from somewhere? somewhere parallel-me drives up + down highway-cut valley pick-up mud up the sideboards out of wiper fluid only the highway curves left instead of right fence posts slightly opposite askew other-me has his windows down passing the Chevron that never changed into an ESSO another-me still drifts up and down the Island letting the ocean seep through his shoes still the horizon-water reminds him of how big the mountains can get a version moves rook axis to back rank clicks clock and waits another-still-me floats in circuitry driven by coloured pulses + passwords posts photos + snippy status updates jets up + down wikis reciting movie quotes from Joel Pepsi like “I’m walkling here” or lyrics from “I Kissed a Grill (and I linked it)” alternate-me dresses in tighter t-shirts pants squeezing his body until micro-thin can hyperlink between pages OMG