Friday Email

All members of the board are prepared at this moment in space to say nothing that does not squeeze the nipple from the turkey and send it flying in the face of their own geometry. This is plain as a plane to me. I cannot begin to think of beginning to consider their postmodern designs for our deconstruction. Certainly you noticed the exploding sandwiches at the last quarterly meeting. And the budget demonstration: a large balloon popped over all our hilariously upturned heads. We were to take notes regarding the behavior of the gray river of furry bodies and pale tails flowing from the sinking ship in the equator of the conference table. Fine. If they want to play curveball, I’m perfectly willing to walk the talk. Or strike if need be. I no longer consider this a career, but rather, an all-shout, no-liquors-barred, take-no-prisoners tiddlywinks scrimmage. I suggest you take your own life and return it to nature. As for our Senior Vice Salad Brains—he can kneel forevermore in a heap of his own manure, licking his mother’s lemur. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel. Hope you have a great weekend!

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Newspaper Clips into Grand Vision

Ok, ok, I got it now can go like so: Fate… you old friend thumbing for me again. Or is starting like this: The armies of time thumping indifferently in the lost desert. Is good, yes? Also adding ancient accent and barnyard noises for to gas the sentences, like Oh, oh, Memory my love, why Dante you ergo all the way to dust we must… Ah, ah, you sneaky little ass fuck. Because have to tenure my controversy. And to be important I adding topicality, put in Oh, the genocide, is it ever and always baffling me to the bowels dear children of history! See? Chop suey newspaper clips into grand vision. It make good works for interviews they sketching me grab in vocabulary box, pulling out This is new soul food of the age wherefore I is the Other and who you are stanza there while I am pentameter. I am eternal free as a winged verso flapping through the fire lies between the sublime dream of me and myself is a spirit streaking through the urban wilderness of human conditions. And on and off like a light brigade, I riding the sage coach of my machinations. Is never done. So I getting job all the time in American university.

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Justin Courter's work has appeared or is forthcoming in Northwest Review,

Pleiades, The Literary Review, The Portland Review, Many Mountains Moving,

North Dakota Quarterly, Berkeley Fiction Review, Fugue, Phantasmagoria and

other journals. His first novel will be published by Omnidawn in 2006. He

lives in New York.

Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/courterj_poems.htm