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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! * 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.
** 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 |