New York Tyrant
Sept. 11, 2016
Walking around the city
Hoping I don’t see
Anyone I know, old
Air conditioner water
Coming down on 14th Street
Overcast, high of 88, wires
Connected to a head
On Mott, a scab
The shape of Queens
I feel anxious writing a poem to be read at a wedding
because I don’t want to disappoint.
My poetry usually isn’t appropriate for weddings, I think.
My poetry is usually troubling and desperate and bleak.
At some point very early on, zygotically early, you will locate the pearl of your consciousness, which, were it able to be surgically removed, would most closely resemble a rare, beautiful bird. This is the bird of no, and it will, as long as you’re alive, beat furiously inside you. No to the pacifier, no to the spoon thrust in your mouth. For a while there will be little discernible effect. Milk will still run down your chin and the sight of a certain object will still give you fits. No to the hokey-pokey, no to crazy hats. Eventually you...
Hi everyone. I felt like I should say something before kicking this off, so here is my *official statement* regarding my month here at The Tyranny: On November 22 at 1:07PM I tweeted “i want to be a fiction or poetry editor somewhere for a month.” At 4:28PM Gian emailed me and said he was “throwing up kind of a bloggiah thing” on the Tyrant website and wanted to have different people edit it for a month at a time. I like the books Gian publishes, and so I figured, in sticking with the tried and true formula of Tyrant...