Read Multitudes Online

Authors: Margaret Christakos

Tags: #Poetry, #General, #Canadian, #Women Authors

Multitudes (3 page)

BOOK: Multitudes
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CIRQUIT
something abt rings of people
forming round a residential neighbourhood
ready to lob fiery blobs
n burn all th houses
flat; gathering my beloveds in2
a van awheel in circles
thru streets, adding another beloved,
another, another, 5 hrs passing
n still not on th
hiway outta here.
Enough
LATE ONE NIGHT
y wd i nd      wd i nd 2      i nd 2 spk     nd 2 spk 2
2 spk 2 u?     spk 2 u? y     2 u? y wd     u? y wd i
BELONGING
Even breezes gather assiduous from rear alley.
But wait several moments.
I want memory specific and positive.
A few syllables mince secure yet clean outcome.
Watch: A poetics of observation wins awards.
Turn gather fester rally wait wait mince secure watch deadline.
Be alone
LOL
. When online
nominate yourself.
Here’s the lament [status update] of the afternoon:
Across arteries clogged with traffic I
sought a coffee with the public, you know. Coffee!
Overheard strains of iTunes leaking
past headphones hatting streetcar riders
[client customer consumer user].
Someone’s knapsack dumped onions, blocked EXIT.
Market index indicated major losses.
A kid reported an earache.
Quoi?
Half the carload
swatted dust from screens.
No one spoke. The light was blue.
No one spoke. Blue light.
No one spoke. Or:
A teenager spoke on her cellphone about fucking a fucking moron douchebag last night and now she was going to Sephora.
No one listened.
Everyone belonged.
Why would I need to speak to you?
Show your transfer. Call
the code on the pole.
Everything blue
everything light
everything you
want at
hand there
is no
WE
1
While I was waiting you may think I have forgotten you.
In this case we hurriedly move to efface the pronouns.
After the past festers imagining built on purity.
Everyone slips.
There’s crust.
Fortunately cities are large striped with busy.
Few speak of crosslights.
Or are these critics?
Recently I heard about writers who intend to disappear in their texts.
Some want to mount a novel civilization.
Both feel regal.
Is memory assiduous?
Is an image named you the clamp in whose tough metal I insist my own gloss?
For example, I see you at the market with one arm raised to manage the weight of
a bag of onions.
The seller nods and with a slight push passes.
Very economical.
See how closely I spy how promptly I reappear.
Does a beloved matter?
You load your onions into a dark cloth knapsack and now you are carrying
significant organic weight on your completely darling spine.
I was such a shit I mince and observe from the rear.
At the intersection strangers produce near-erasable gestures of notice.
One’s iris squeezes around the post of an earring.
One’s lower lip demi-lowers.
One’s suck.
One’s freeze.
Then forget it everybody jerks and walks their earbud cords bob spritely.
Possibly affection crusts over.
I pay with my bank card at the confectionery no one resorts to speaking.
There’s a statement in the mail.
Such good bedtime stories.
Transactions recoverable for ease of.
But somebody must snooze.
Imagining’s slips.
So the thing is while I sleep even my head is silent, so we have no record of
how I may dream of you, my revenant.
Onions are anguish, common coding.
Me piling such on your spine ever wishful.
Off balance.
You just slice them up to cook.
2
Few speak of crosslights.
Sometimes it is kind.
Crusts of bread slush up the curb.
I have ardent cramps.
This can be ridiculed by anyone who doesn’t.
Will you participate? In ridicule?
Have you asked this of your own torso?
So one day the weight of very nice onions slowed you in the bike lane.
Somehow a kid stumbled.
This was in a video game.
Near collision.
You braked to avoid a we on the black pavement.
Suddenly
oh
s, eyes ricochet crazy.
There are writers who record the overprotection of the
G
20.
One gorges.
Others gouge.
Some really like metaphors for their main course.
We hurry to lift the boy back into his sneakers.
Imagine the strange violence of the virtual moment these shoes dislodge.
Can you resume your bike route?
I hurry with my panier half-open.
Of course if even a little it is open.
So how I hurry involves an open panier and a wind entering.
In this way me.
Adequate force is even breezes.
I feel this no one else has to feel this ever or in the video game for me to
feel this on my face.
3
Cubed then translucent.
It’s luck.
Slips to particles.
Hidden under a bed and dust pretend in SimCity.
I pretend a lot of stuff about you.
Rotate your earring posterior.
Somebody retaliates with a cross-check across the kneecap.
I push my credit card into a stranger’s fly.
Ismem or yassidu.
Yes perhaps it is all right to admire sestinas.
A couple counts vowels.
One’s grammar.
Gut real irrelevant in the mailbox for several bucks.
Forget we averaged how I waited, all my waiting for not you but some  images of you I like to pretend are congealing in the bar fridge.
That’s the main confession.
Flickering traffic lamps seem to lack.
Its most obvious production.
I get it, we is no enigma of note.
Forgotten.
Torso your.
These are only onions.
This was even compost.
Larding is the event of we.
Still, here’s a
gathering.
ENOUGH
1
There’s crust, an image named you. See how closely
a beloved matters, dark cloth knapsack.
This can be ridiculed with my half-open panier. Slips
to particles, so I push my credit card to admire sestinas.
Congealing in the bar fridge imagining built
on purity. A slight push passes
writers who intend to disappear in their texts.
Why would I need near-erasable
violence of the virtual moment? See how
I hurry, how promptly the past festers and how
very economical. Adequate force. Will you
participate for me to feel this on my face?
I feel this and no one else has to feel this
ever or in the high-def video game.
2
In a moment for a moment there is a moment I call inspired
when I tweet about what I feel and want on my cheek
the force of even breezes
that I want to gather for a few syllables. You are
what I have forgotten while I compose the text small
enough, economical and funny, stingingly
savvy or angled to cause undeniable media stir.
If I have forgotten it is only because she bores me
with pompous statuses of complaint and trivial
indigestion. But wait, there’s another photo
of the day she got her septum pierced and how
renewed now am I. I am some aperture.
You are the arsenal. Koo koo
kachoo you later. Or are these critics?
Are you a critic?
Recently I read about a victim whose half-bitten nose
because I am privy to up-to-the-minute news updates
take their chunk out of me, they really do, when I remember
you or the clamp in whose tough metal I insist
my own gloss.
3
No enigma of note. A slight push then in my palms
cold onions to place on your eyes burned
from the tear gas cops shot as a warning. You’d better.
Is memory assiduous? See
how closely I spy. Sometimes
it’s kind. That’s mainly confession.
For example. Off balance. Near collision. One’s grammar. Feel regal.
No one resorts to speaking. I was such a shit
I mince and observe from the rear.
Some say a poetics of witness is enough or not quite
enough. Traffic lamps flutter and seem to
forget it everybody jerks and walks their
cords
bob
spritely.
Weapon
No lyric no cry.
January 20, 2012 at 19:48
TIME
A Note by
on Monday, September 11, 2010
at 8:59 Cerise, however did
you learn to form your
Qs with such an open
heart??? Wick A Note by
on Monday, September
11, 2008 at 8:57 Possibly,
I did. But you always
take your great-aunt’s word with
much too stiff a gum.
Con the group into liking
your shortbread. That’s my best
advice on the whole fricassee.
Spiffy A Note by
on Monday, September 11, 2005
at 8:55 All right then,
Christopher-Tom, have your tailor
call my grocer and we’ll
hammer out a deal we
can both live with. Fra
Pitooey A Note on Monday,
September 11, 2003 at 8:54
Gertrude, Are you sure you
can’t make just one sentence
smell like savory? Please? Your
best hound, Crawbelly. A Note
Monday 8:53 Darling Henry, Do
you think you’ll have time
to fix the garage door
in time for Samantha’s wedding
rehearsal? It is September after
all! Know you’re verrrrry busy,
FOUR YEARS IS IT
interesting to view how over the past several years fb
has become a magazine in fact THE magazine where contributors
link each other to ‘content’
vast over the web consolidating
interest communities Selves market self
The bits where ‘friends’ say
something about her day or how he’s feeling affirm the
larger comfort of belonging in an emotional network but the
holy hottt
babez :

)
BOOK: Multitudes
11.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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