the equalizer second series

Transcription

the equalizer
second series
EQ2
[1]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
Samuel Amadon
Tyler Gobble
Guillermo Parra
Cynthia Arrieu-King
Kenneth Goldsmith
Michael Peters
David Bartone
Nada Gordon
Brett Price
Charles Bernstein
Bradley Harrison
Nate Pritts
Anselm Berrigan
Andrea Henchey
Grace Quick
Edmund Berrigan
Sean Patrick Hill
Layne Ransom
Anne Boyer
Randall Horton
Meg Ronan
CM Burroughs
Thomas Hummel
Kawaji Ryuko
Nicole Callihan
Marsha Idlewine
Zach Savich
Willa Carroll
Jeffrey Jullich
Kelly Schirmann
Junior Clemons
Paul Killebrew
Sandra Simonds
Evan Commander
Jennifer L. Knox
Abraham Smith
Robert C.L. Crawford
Eric Kocher
Danez Smith
Daniel Davis-Rogers
Krystal Languell
Eric Sneathen
Ray DeJesús
Amy Lawless
Sparrow
Michelle Dove
Noel Long
Adam Stutz
Paul Ebenkamp
Pattie McCarthy
Dawn Sueoka
Carly Eichhorn
Sam A. McCormick
Hunnel Tolland
Natalie Eilbert
Tracey McTague
Víctor Valera Mora
Cathy Eisenhower
K. Silem Mohammad
Paul Vargas
Frank Fabre
Amanda Montei
Kevin Varrone
Jessica Fiorini
Lindsay Rose Moore
Maya Weeks
Jennifer H. Fortin
Jess Mynes
Patrick Whitfill
Drew Gardner
Daniel Nester
Tyrone Williams
Jules Gibbs
Danielle Pafunda
Mark Yakich
[2]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.1
sparrow
[ 4 ] La terre
theunrulyservant @ gmail .com
[3]
the equalizer
second series
la terre
La terre
est un
livre rond.
sparrow
[4]
@sparrow14
the equalizer
second series
the earth
The earth
is a
round book.
sparrow
[5]
@sparrow14
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.2
edmund berrigan
david bartone
[ 7 ] Poem for the New Year, 2013
[ 8 ] One Thousand Wild Ghosts Running
Through Me
jennifer l . knox
[ 10 ] A Constant Din of Songbirds from the
88th Dimension
amy lawless
tracey mctague
kawaji ryuko
junior clemons
[ 11 ] The Private Lives of Deer
[ 12 ] goldilocks zone
[ 13 ] 感覚の瞬時
[ 17 ] from Field Recording
brett price
[ 18 ] Gimme Yr Children
jess mynes
[ 21 ] Cat Scratch Fever
danielle pafunda
jeffrey jullich
[ 23 ] I like trouble more than sex
[ 24 ] The Muse of Lyric Poetry Visits the Muse
of Epic Poetry
mark yakich
cynthia arrieu-king
michael peters
eric sneathen
víctor valera mora
[ 25 ] What, Friends, Is Identity?
[ 26 ] How to Ford a Fantasy and Live
[ 27 ] Incantation 1: Love, Inword Made Flesh
[ 28 ] Room 102
[ 29 ] Acepto Que Me Burlo de Casi Todo y de
Todos
drew gardner
robert c.l . crawford
eric kocher
[ 31 ] The Programs
[ 32 ] Day
[ 33 ] Material Witness
[6]
the equalizer
second series
poem for the new year,
2013
after John Donne
The streets of Paris are a map in my mind
of the streets of Paris my mind weathered in.
I replace them with loyalties and absence
but also a presence shared now to differentiate
one mind set and replicate another.
The conditions of the previous entries no
longer apply—sets of sadness and confusion
replaced with anomalies of feeling
while I rely on sensory input to motion
my advanced standing still. Landscape withers
the physical drift while matter continues
neither created nor destroyed, but emotions
transubstantiate from one corporeal to another,
and there, I do bring the spider love.
edmund berrigan
[7]
eberrigan @hotmail .com
the equalizer
second series
one thousand wild ghosts running through me
Once
when driving
the Taconic,
the return
of some weekend
holiday probably,
“I love you like toys”
appeared
as from these vows.
The vision
I mean to speak
may sometimes
blast as from
the night
like an American dream
in late November.
As a child
gains reason,
the source
of which
is also
reasoning,
and not merely
intuition,
I gain you.
The nothing notion
of I love you
supplies
beyond how
my stupidity
nears how
I miss you.
I have you.
I am wearing
the pajamas
you repaired
and holding one
of your books
david bartone
[8]
davidbartone @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
open. In seeing
some words I am
capable of making
sense of, the dusty
smell of buckram
comingles.
The greatest brute
of me
reserves
your smell
for my own
descriptions,
because
they are how I grieve
when you are out.
Blessed is
the dumb
hand it holds
the heart.
It’s only ever you
that mine teases.
I think on the
countless icons
we have gained
claim to: geese,
and all the others,
bee-known ideas,
little tools, certain
dishes, courtesies
and fervors, swarm
of whatever fancies.
And then I think
of your legs.
I live the cinema
of your bursting being
and I love you
your tidy ways.
david bartone
[9]
the equalizer
second series
a constant din of songbirds from the
88th dimension
Everyone knew the actress was into bestiality. Everyone
except me. I found out the hard (easy?) way: in a dream
from the crowd of strangers in a bar gathered ’round a TV
watching said actress slow-mo running along a beach—
voluminous boobs boinging up and down like bungee jumpers—
with a big dog on a leash. “She’s gonna hump it,” said
someone awful sharing my dream—someone stationed there
by own brain. “You butthole jerkface, that’s disgusting!”
I snapped superiorly, not knowing what someone in my brain
knew . . . so my brain was keeping secrets from me, perhaps
going to prestigious parties without me and lying about where
it’d been. When the crowd around the TV showed me photos
of the actress making twisted love to a Great Dane, a raging
wave of jealousy crashed over me, then, titillation. I snuck
another peek at the photos but hid this act from my brain,
which entailed a cool observance of myself, as one would
a stranger with a head wound.
jennifer l . knox
[ 10 ]
jenniferlknox.com
the equalizer
second series
the private lives of deer
When these two deer join, a dream becomes a physical object. Alone, the stag philosophizes,
drifting like a fucknaut from one project to the next. So too, the doe goes inward and makes
a world inside her own mind. They may seem opposite but can eagerly learn to neutralize
each other’s eccentricities. The doe understands her stag and creates an escape pad. The doe
waits and accepts her stag’s aloofness in a new and empathetic way. The stag is a total nerd
bookworm, but the doe makes fun of him in a light-hearted way that allows him to physically
pass through a door in a way that is not pandering. Hell, walking through a door is magic!
amy lawless
[ 11 ]
aelawless @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
goldilocks zone
wampum seawant
a day gone like cigarettes
with blood brightly awake
like some dopey saint
or decommissioned ship
moored & augered
my fifth rate frigate sunk
with requiem for silver
late & soon
the perch of ethereal drunkards
waiting to sigh & die already
for next drink’s oracle
of what the owl left
tracey mctague
[ 12 ]
tracey @ townebrooklyn.com
the equalizer
second series
感覚の瞬時
(一九〇八、九月×日　夜九時七分前）
...............
...............
キチ、キチ、キチ、キチ、キチ、
キチリ、キチリ、
リ、リ、リリリ、リリリ、
リリリ、
リ
リ、
リリリ、
...............
...............
霧が瓦に沁みる
星は涼しく笑つてた―
風―
置時計の刻む音 . . . . . .
...............
...............
笛の音が細く流れる―甘い、悲しい
青い色に顫へて消える . . . . . .
—— —— ——
洋燈が音をたてる . . . . . .
水のやうに静かだ . . . . . .
しめやか反響 . . . . . .
また . . . . . .
kawaji ryuko
[ 13 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
リ、リ、リリリ
チョキツ、チョキツ、
リ、リ、リ、
リリリリ、リ、
しめやかな音 . . . . . .
リ、　リ、リ、リ、　リ . . . . . .
心が歩いてるやうなものがある . . . . . .
話し聲、
たしかに路で . . . . . .
夕、夕、夕、
...............
耳はじ―と鳴る
...............
カタ . . . . . . タ . . . . . .
駄目だ . . . . . .
心は氷のやうに冷えかえつた。
光った . . . . . .
女のくる足音。
kawaji ryuko
[ 14 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
a moment of sensation
(September X, 1908, 7 minutes to 9 pm)
...............
...............
Kichi, kichi, kichi, kichi, kichi,
Kichiri, kichiri,
Ri, ri, ririri, ririri
Ririri,
Ri
Ri,
Ririri,
...............
...............
The dew into the roof tile soaks
The star calmly laughed—
Wind—
The beating sounds of a table clock . . . . . .
...............
...............
The sound of a flute flows thinly—sweet, somber
Disappearing after trembling in blue . . . . . .
—— —— ——
The lamp makes a sound . . . . . .
Quiet like water . . . . .
Gentle echo . . . . . .
Again . . .
kawaji ryuko
[ 15 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
Ri, ri, ririri
Chokit, chokit
Ri, ri, ri
Riririri, ri,
Gentle sounds . . . . . .
Ri,ri, ri, ri,ri . . . . . .
There’s something there as though walking the heart
Voices,
Undoubtedly on the road . . . . . .
Dawn, dawn, dawn
...............
Ears ring steadily—
...............
Kata . . . . . . ta . . . . . .
It’s no use . . . . . .
The heart grew cold like ice again.
Shined . . . . . .
Sounds of a woman’s footsteps.
Translated by Sho Sugita
kawaji ryuko
[ 16 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
from field recording
it has been summer
more of everyone
disappearing quickly
or giving life
to rorschach in odd places
most arms are sticky
and the sleeves hold up
branches grown. true
you can have whatever
fish you want
but when someone asks
if you are a god, please
say yes
(A Boat, June 14 2009, San Diego)
junior clemons
[ 17 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
gimme yr children
Hey what’s Myrrh doing
thinking bout careers?
two minutes in total stillness then what
inputs recover from clipped conditions
and one inhabits the job one came to do fully as pledge
style and tact perhaps uncharacteristic for the trade
women’s work says Karen of territory called care I man
as city moon hair-stroker and kind usher to Slumbertown
dishing out milk in an un-weird way then
riding switch bagatelle next day to cleanse
homebody of disadventurous roots:
“I’m not really so
into museums
I’m not really a walking kind of guy
Nexus 7
iPod
computer
that’s 6
iPhone
3DS
Wii
6 devices that’re all mine”
middle way: give me two hours of nature for nine holes on screen
besides you’ll dig the waterfall and show off skinned knee later
risking the fine for sake of the new
sign says no-trespassing
which may be true but guess who’s in charge now
dude rockin’ toy piano santa hat
wizard power: on
just be the manny
free snacks are a perk
every day’s treat day
brett price
[ 18 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
so yeah wear the dog-suit again I guess
June-bus dodging wobblies on 2nd Ave.
is in fact our mutual idea of a killer time
does murder seem best on occasion sure but we don’t indulge
my track record on this particular front speaks for itself
now there’s a green heron in its nest you should care about that
parents I carry serious range but
no I won’t skull-bong your kid through a tube
who invents this shit
and why not tissues
well questions arise
like what’s in my bones
do they have gummy bears as a topping
and why does that man not have any toes
one can take some pride in finding the most healthy solutions
attempt nap or be rolled into oncoming traffic your choice
employing full range of sensory equipment bodies just
came this way crazy right you me and the cosmos one thing
where tire-swing politics portend no
shift in approach re foreign policy
now how plant the seed
gentle with the ant
to see water
trees
for first time ever
it seems
this exact kind being brand new
shows who’s actually teaching who here
brett price
[ 19 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
so clap for neon
geese
second series
clap for glazed fancy of aviating
why shouldn’t shredding that broccoli be worthy of applause
rip it up
enriched wages
altogether beach ease
summer days I’d wave the fees for
glorious orange
to bunt a homerun’s
what it feels like to actuate such love
then split when snores galore dishes are done
and Myrrh’s just chillin
chillin like a villain
brett price
[ 20 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
cat scratch fever
Just like a century ago
when it was fashionable to
eavesdrop for subject
material. The emotional
terrain, the unsuspected
alterations when we carry
each other’s weight. Our
shared long division.
Expressing it persevering.
Compromise or contradiction? Hold me
to what I say. Idiomatic
expressions so to speak.
Pigtails sipping coffee. You can’t
escape the repetition, the livestock
one step ahead. Are we in agreement
about the color choice? Meat
as a plural is always
disconcerting. Handle Like Eggs.
Rauschenberg’s Gluts. The cutest of
the sisters. Automatic from
the charity stripe. Two sides of the same coin.
Paul guards George.
What could be the right moment
for crying. A train ride through
Sioux Falls. Signature rumble strips.
Awakening to a higher purpose
instead of the usual flailing in an inherent
language building its dam. The typical
social conditions of the unemployed.
A moving screen on the rocks.
Walt Whitman’s clipper ship
run aground. The new Coke.
Charisma without a clearly defined
mission. I’ll sit here quietly
waiting for the cremation
to begin. Beg the commander
on my behalf, there must be
some leeway to these chains. In order
jess mynes
[ 21 ]
fewfurpress.blogspot.com
the equalizer
second series
to describe it
you must first make a day of it.
The repetition of perpetual
analysis delves from piecemeal
to paralysis. We figure it out
as best we can
and that’s OK.
jess mynes
[ 22 ]
the equalizer
second series
i like trouble more than sex
I like trouble more than sex,
so this is what you catch me making.
You catch me vomiting up a hasty
pair of trousers, a shoelace dangles
from my lip. I close my mouth,
skinny streak of leather everything
you need to know. Tonight.
Tomorrow you’ll deny it.
My face on a touchscreen backlit
by your heavily crafted redactions.
One fat, wet slash after another. No
scrawl, sentimental scuzz, betrayal
of heart by hand, not you. That shadow
you stretch across my mouth, that regal
band of nevermore I chew through after all.
danielle pafunda
[ 23 ]
dpafunda@ uwyo.edu
the equalizer
second series
the muse of lyric poetry visits the muse of epic poetry
villains
inadvertently exploit bacteria
blink out sunny spring day
surveillance by sparrows
hurry do it
actors memorizing
motivations
SUCH AS illiteracy
I won’t say my name
that in-between strangeness
area
both these hypothesesthat thatched dome
bad taste
perimeter encircles
séance
sympathetic alienationdilemma—solemn
creative writing created light out of darkness
diagnosis
explode hell damn manure
jeffrey jullich
[ 24 ]
jeffreyjullich.com
the equalizer
second series
what, friends, is identity?
When a chunk of extra-sharp cheddar
Must be thrown away because it’s touched
The dirt floor of your straw hut, are you
Meant to feel sad for the cow? It’s good
To sleep under a cheap painting of a river,
A weeping willow & a red balloon
You have made yourself. That time
You confessed, “My brain made me do it!”
That time you read how Napoleon
Ate his dog one rough winter. That time
Somebody reminded you of Mother,
With feet in the air, screaming
“Get behind me, Jesus!” Once in a while
It’s okay to lick flaming sashimi off
Someone’s torso, possibly even sashimi
Folded & half stuck out the anus.
It’s healthy to make amends often,
Playing Jesus the Goodie-Goodie, Jesus
The Middleman, Jesus the Scarecrow.
But look again, Friends, at that picture
You have of yourself in your mind—
Like that red balloon up there—yes,
It’s a fake, you’ll have repaint it all
Or let the whole landscape go to hell.
mark yakich
[ 25 ]
mark @ markyakich.com
the equalizer
second series
how to ford a fantasy and live
In this, the forest of judgmental roses and hoary, talkative trees, you camp a forest clearing
where there ain’t no beans. A spy-prince with black orbs keeps staring at you. Use your mind to
make his hand cup your ass. Never mind that dappled light won’t stop sweeping across the tops
of your universe-protectors. Never mind the awful vines that mingle with your hair, waiting to
strangle you later. Never mind the warlock brings down a flame-colored dress to spread across
your ceremonial death bier, one woven from magnolia bowers. Work this forest on a gut level.
Munch some moss or eat some worm. Together, the old man, his long white beard, which has
its own mouth, and you blather in the ancient universal language, part limpid, part blood-axe.
You discuss how certain configurations and texture of dove droppings mean snow perchance
approaches, the kind like eensy razors. Walk the path backwards in this painful drizzle, toward
the edge of the forest. Along the way, let your warm horse see his own face in a pool.
cynthia arrieu-king
[ 26 ]
teaches at stockton college
the equalizer
second series
incantation
1
love, inword made flesh
Where shall I hide my face ?
It is said that eros, nascent
& birth’d in krsna’s womb
( in chaotic voids )outside of the stars
is still narrating
the various activities
like the sun, self-balanced
( hydrogen fusion pushing out ), gravity pushing in (
yeah,light!
feeling the hairs
stand on end
a hot heart, all flesh
all muscle
& throbbing
in the plant stems
thick with milky water
while the brain
fixates
about the rock
michael peters
[ 27 ]
michael-peters.com
the equalizer
second series
room
102
we lay down bread into ever-widening
circles & words follow behind us
somewhat incidental
they fuse to the bedsheets
to signal a complicated & ruthless
refusal that might incendiate the day
it releases me like no sphincter has
in a long while
eric sneathen
[ 28 ]
esneathen @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
acepto que me burlo de casi todo y de todos
Acepto que me burlo de casi todo y de todos
porque el enamorado lúcido soy yo
el más nefasto azar
Por eso el próximo balazo me pertenece.
víctor valera mora
[ 29 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
i accept that i mock nearly everything and everyone
I accept that I mock nearly everything and everyone
because I am clearly in love
this most nefarious fate
So the next shot belongs to me.
Translated by Anne Boyer
& Guillermo Parra
víctor valera mora
[ 30 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
the programs
Agile view agility air gap.
Arcana pup Artemis association.
Auto-source beamer bell view, black pearl cadence.
Gamut chalk fun cineplex cloud coastline.
Common views contra octave convergence.
Courier skill, creek crests crossbones cult.
Weave cyber dish fire.
Double arrow dragonfly.
Ethereal fascia fast scope foreman gamut.
Gist queue global reach gold miner
gold points gossamer growler.
Hercules high tide home base info shares
Jolly Roger king fish liquid fire.
Main way marina.
Master link master shake messiah.
Mettlesome new horizons
night surf normal run.
Chew stick fallen oracle nucleon
octave path master mail orders
pin wale panopticon presenter.
Proton raven wing Renoir roadbed.
Scorpio shark fin scope, skywriter spot beam.
Stingray surrey.
Taper lay tarot card temptress.
Trace fin trail treasure map tuning fork seeker.
Turmoil tusk attire, twisted path.
Wealthy cluster wire shark.
Witch hunt score, yellow stone.
Split glass.
drew gardner
[ 31 ]
drewgardner @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
day
Of suburbs and their wildflowers
Little is archived in argon gas
Raindrops red, green, and blue
What happens when the old ones bore
Peach noisette peals from a tine
I’m a winner when I steal it
Silent before the blast gold phantom
Silent before the blast gold phantom
[ 32 ]
rcrawford7@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
material witness
It’s hard to imagine
a being
such as myself
so evolved
so as to be capable
of composing
coherently
and dividing
into distinct
shapes and structures
a world made
seemingly from
its own reflections
simply by making
available
two holes
in my head
for intromission
doesn’t constantly
misconstrue
said reflections
unknowingly
into fictions
loopholes twists
the sudden elision
of a desert
for where want
of a watering hole
might better
suit my needs
or that knowledge
of these emissions
having originated
somewhere
other than
the objects seen
doesn’t seem
suspicious
eric kocher
[ 33 ]
eric.kocher @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
enough to warrant
an all-out
investigation
to excavate
the surfaces from
the surfaces
perceived
or that the objects
themselves
divide endlessly
into particles
imperceptible
to me
doesn’t mean anything
I want from far away
might turn
back into sand
the moment
it touches my lips
I’ll believe
because
there were waves
there here
there must also
be water.
eric kocher
[ 34 ]
eric.kocher @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
They who know the truth are not equal to those
who love it, and they who love it are not equal
to those who delight in it.
Confucius
[ 35 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.3
abraham smith
[ 37 ] IN THE OLD DAYS coyote
[ 36 ]
the equalizer
second series
in the old days coyote
IN THE OLD DAYS coyote i mighta held it in like a frickin ship rope mummy
moon had has its masks its personalities its frequencies
sound had has to have somewhere to go
landings
moon mask lonely as word leaf
because leaf is never two
unless you count tree built for parting
so ol moon mask grows four legs
figures four is twice the chance
of not getting lonely
baby i’d eat a baby rabbit too
if i were a four legged former moon tune moon
flamin thru the world like a paper
stranger in a fire water squirrel
waa ahh hooo
alien radio
in between the formal station ad athon canned crap crap
an nonsense poet flowin
a water hill of eat and see
were inside human smeary glass
a vinegar newspaper
taken to it
mmm when night falls floats an ink
when night just like the night does
yes come on ump they
a voice without a body
then what is that
a dog don’t wait on yr movements to move
then what is that
abraham smith
[ 37 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
honey i been growing a flower out of a stone all my life it gets
weird like that
honey my sister did an imitation and i finally knew
sometimes the truest thing comes in translation
in the old days and and and un un un they were chainsaws
laughing backwards to strop more light to this world
possible that an ear gets too much one language on it
if yr not my dog then who are you and
this is what we do to those hoo we do not know
honey could we do the exploded ground again
still have them steel pinchers that rack and ruin?
how about the tongue pull parts or we can castrate improvise
were the pilgrim puritan kettle thing
on the throttlin hob the
water hot’s enthused
coining of a rabbit caught or
bottlenecked and barrelhousing
but something too shrill for bird or break leg hopper
that heretical bird of hell man
aka winter birdies hardly
shell the husk of hum aka in a mouth too soon
loose of tooth little solace in a tongue
plunging into un nice hot hole
where assumption’s trump-that-food hardness once was
baby grandpa leans over his black book
an film eye trained on that leathery great beyond
is feather furious is leaky injurious
yr thoughtmeat overthinks things my my
my lil humorless ferrous puritan the hemp and holler blood
drags a scratchy thru the milk holes in the bundle board
bundle board yet another wink wink symbol of chastity
why don’t y’all take a nap in yr dink dink formal constraint
in yr frontier distal in yr symbol for fortress there’s nothing more
than just that
abraham smith
[ 38 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
isn’t even the word that
how about thad who went to exeter til he
bailed via a blow addiction there ya go
one’s theoretically pure lover breathing
boy pumping air into his
bike tires to huffy to the burn pit where the workmen
are too lazy to tend the fire in the barrel
where the wind turnin
in the fire won’t quite mourn nudie
death’s this life reality being trees
trees being active tombs
gargle us over the years clearer
their saps dead bloods collectively
through an up and down wholesome choco leche diner straw
til the saps run cool and sweet and cool and sweet and clean and clear and us we
nine tenths forgotten by all save the sun ray down impartial
pet factory down milk warm arms sin dream africa down
honey stirred until the color glows an almost bastard marble
fact mr ivory carver has an order for ex number of umbrella handles
is a little bothered by his neighbor’s cow herd
the air for his private use so stuffed with moo
when the outside won’t stay out it has to be beyond the birds
it has to be a person’s personals
won’t let him make the regal lion make anything but an angry
eagle of the handle so must leave off walk his rooms
or the forever muddy road up along a bluff must remind himself
not to call heath is hard in its yellow to see as anything
but the urine laced blades eclipsed by his pious neighbor’s meadow felons
annnd what’s this? back at the ranch
the boy the bundle board’s spiritual great divide leaps
and one two three timid widget rocks
with an gentile reptile slowness rocks
the loose brand of milk and honey into into
and breathing into each other’s ear ears
a storm on the tv
oh hell yes let’s to the fair win a stuffed future bear
abraham smith
[ 39 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
i am thinking that william bradford was probably one helluva humorless asshole
therefore the sometimes stigmata ass of the american world mindset sometimes
i am thinking that mary rowlandson was one true slick trickster
i am thinking of this little tommy granger who scooted his
man-ooze his man-milk into the freaked crop of a clucker
and so was made to watch the chicken’s neck crack
and then was pressed to death himself for having
leda-and-the-swan’d his way into dawn’s cockle dew’s
rightful partner was stoned and cut up and burned
pursuant to the laws passed down by the constantly annoyed
CEO of the mercy seat ol mr glow face moses i am thinking of an image
of 150 puritans poured in a pile ala kittens i am thinking of
the pious old timer who in his hoary life and times
groaned his member around in 10 wives for number 9 was struck
as by a silent lightning the righteous outstretched fangy paw of the lord
in the groanings of a child birth and
the tenth from a fever carried off turned her face savage red then
white as snow on fat of whale yes white as a lamb
licked to perfection by the mama ewe whose bleatings in this cold
november wind throw little ghostly shrouds for 1 2 3 4 5 6
7 8 9 10 witch teen be next nester groaner minder wondereth mine wild hide head
last freak show in florida gal hoo calls herself mary the carpenter
drives nails into her face for paper money
and to pay her electric bill she’s smart with that
pulls all the chords while she’s away an all day frugal bugle trumpeting away
is she the lesson is we are less solid flesh
more a sanctuary of cavities or once one taps rewind on a wound
there is a field to enter does not feel says the tractor’s wife the plow now what
will you fill up your cavities with? i to field mine in the holy now
in the holly light in the way winter sun coins
my dear dear friend’s little metal bird boy glasses act as medallions of flame
he’s a true artist a true midwesterner 893045 bonfires
in conifer shaped yellows whipliproar 23978 tarps in the trees
inside behind his tumuli-like cheekbones but he’ll ask you
about yours and yourself beautifully firstly
stops to shotgun mistletoe out of the trees
the beautiful flower the spent shell
as per his alabaster mother’s morsel mild holiday entreaties
abraham smith
[ 40 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
that love is violence and we seed all control with the half wit
gloved gripe of a grape vine logic
mmmmm love is the privilege of accessing the wetness in another’s mouth
a song the next best thing
guess that’s just what happens when you sing through fang
purty meaty slashy song the human has to
takes that as a craze a haunt
because teeth and ears co vacation
back in our mouth where all our biters went mostly round
we are the vegetable warble we are the chopped drooped asparagus crowd
we sing the song with pubic hair of roots they sing of
restless sweet late wandering through
the comely holly cure lip light
were the one time everyone
genuine laughed like a back throw out laugh back before laugh
tracks told ya cereal was bread bed lamb and they were
the sound of silence crammed
like a food looter in the mouth
of a stone and they were the scree of a eeeeek machines?
and they were outwardly the foam
fan number one finger escalator to heave
to safety her lover left to pine a lolly log gag egg
walk fist talk later
were mercury yoyo hiccup string
were that staff has not a nib
there’s no rib in yr oxygen
strikes sparks as she goes
dry rasps of a going man
were can’t handle
what we can’t road handle
a name towards then on
abraham smith
[ 41 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
were as conquering goes
slaughter so a world of names
guess any thing without a cooked meat heart freaks us
throws a rope of temperature
goes a flagpole and tiny fist of flag
in wind like a jiggled water
that’s what off the ass
of the wanted man stewin
in a cold shell colder the longer
the kid who believes in sea in it stays
in bed with fever all that over an emptying wine bottle
whose powder habit hearts drop windows
from a mile up onto their eyes
the throw up in their voices
revolve a lizard tail finger
around the crystal goblet
an alien ring an
white cloth boredom
dome to eminence
and and an obelisk to taffeta ream
were fleas then bees then castles of carcasses
and flames unto the dewclaws of heaven
some hearth indigestion that
were all of my blood of my body
into my ear
so the aliens see it’s a risky concert
says my dad while frying beans in bacon
of metallica in 1989
were the voice without a shape the name without a face
the forever problem of the stranger
the badge without a job the flag without a country
the feet without a way out home
were night as colon :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
his pilgrims misheard the indians
abraham smith
[ 42 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
would it kill you to sing that again?
bee the bird face dog bud
were the she i love what a pond shocker fish belly white yes that she i love
and so must the world too then obviously for lovely is a tyrannous myopia cabin
with animal skins for doors and our constant good morning moaning haw haw
yeah grabs from the air of a conversation who magics the tater
from the air birds it and then she yes reroutes a few
syllables through the lighter snows of south dakota as the saying goes
and reaches into the narrow lonely maw slash chute of a dead
payphone to the tune of a silk scarf in the color
register of blood boiled with a tendon on no longer
crammed in there billows according to the dictates of the light breeze
billows like blood going out feeling out into the unimpressed waters
like a tendon wishing pining
oh wasted muscle love
a writer writing riding smokes
as she turns like an official
to the passing read the reds of likkers
rougeing this old street man’s face and ropes the scarf
in the perfect ascot addition to set off sprinklers in offices
he’s this week’s holy ham
to one little charged change is owed a world of four alarm fortunes
as he turns right into the dawn blinding office highrise
enjoys eats up the bing of the elevator door
will spit the pit of the bing in an empty gleaming metal waste bin
privately later
as he rises careful past drones under egg light to the fun
and the time it takes for this rising is a day
yes night holy night has set in
ah the teeth-in-waiting y’all the stars ooh this handsome thankfully
indentured but a night butterknife does no stabbin eve
mmm the rooftop party has begun it is buzzing
while down below you can see the buglike
headlights stroking along in seeming synchronized urgency
look graceful caught up pensive get there and then you’ll feel
aka forgetful of yr crumbly day ay ay
anyone who is anyone
abraham smith
[ 43 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
gentlesirs him like you would not believe
the kind of fine scotch going
down as tho he’s lining throat the ol welp line with
a dead rocker’s auctioned leather pants
his eyes are raisins in sand the dawn and setsun bleed on while a dog
scratches for he’s caught the eye of a dozen or more
maybe her cellphones now net his winning mild disregard
as a mole might scoff at a cliff
as tho there’s not more mountain to go
and maybe there’s a room where scintillating people on all fours wait for him
shimmer and quake and thump
the very word quacks me back to this sparkle shit shotgunned pinwheel world
were orgasm of orange pretty pest fish gravity having been
pried out of the corners with a homemade wooden spoon
you can tell it’s homemade because every time she holds
it up the trees around mourn laugh crack a sentence littered
with semicolon dash colon dash dash do we
be-thumb be-true ourselves at last in a laugh or exposed become some horrible
animal our scary sister to bone white teeth
preaching of the bite of mortality maybe
as we settle again into an hackneyed composure
the wadded old newspapers the purple old pigeons
the purple prose the pigeons hollow thunder trove mattress springs
in marseilles tonight one once pulse friendly wire now like dead bow string
now strike-the-like-a off
were we’ll tend to read one part of the bible
not another people tend to think they choose
things’ fates that the porpoise revolves around his
adamantine bellybutton whose inny or outty preaches the first
of many stony severances from cupped mother earth
cupped my ass that thing’s been dug
whose trillionth core cult culprit coffee this day is not quite
hot enough tonight shoulda known
this lonesome place would brew a see-thru heart-spike
these far from sedulous types who linger where no buildings jut and jab
land of tough skinned angels aloha from
abraham smith
[ 44 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
who cares minx meat junction there’s a form for that
but they lost it who are they
the officers the erasers for the hats
with the bored and so erased eyes
with the sloughing
off duties blowing clouds off hot tea
who knows they don’t lung row
the diarrhea rain tonight
coming down sideways like retired reins
some say if you hold ’em right it’s the twitch of a human
named stubborn sawed off canterer still strikes sparks from
sorry chipped cobblestones whose little black slash ash marks
tell a tale of blaze no home wood
over singsing from marseilles
a brick with wings with love tonight
were one thing if this were about the practices
of our particular hands
but in these days of charismatic machines
and cleavers whose heart-conch toot is nine times
the tattling shivers of the golden gate bridge well
well what we are told to do
and carry out gets done hell scary has been
that way for a long time abe say something new try
try to pause right now unpage yr sweet morsel dandle candle eyes
consider your innocuous soup special cracker crumbed hand
probably yr palm is up unless you are a knuckle reader
as i now do mine we are this flip over together
a human a page a page at the mercy of king and country
the scarf a tater and the tater stone
but the stone having become inured to hardness
well that does not mean the echo of ultimate succulence
does not shy grove in it
what a wild pleasure it would be to get stoned by you
but i supply the rocks of living toad and go
abraham smith
[ 45 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
right the veins run running
over top like silt belt rivers on a topo map
the veins vines the chorded paths across winter snow done fields
where deer follow tho there had to have been one who led
who sculled the marrow of the snow until its harem waters bled
and that one’s heart’s a sassy old rutabaga thing think
about its almost incorrigible
sense of correctness the gentle idiot given the professorship
his AM cig coughs reword self assured scotch tape scoffs
the best thing about a human mind is that it will not hold onto
the taste of licking stamps has led this
droll ruta ruta to cluck its no mouth
at the carrot the turnip whose strange old bed sores
and ear hairs preach of pangaea and rope tows back
when my county was one bunch of cars hooked
by chains to other cars when you did not have to
have a splash of gasoline to take you a ride rob
pete to pay paula back in smokes half off
when the plastic wrapper part oh man curled down on past breaking
or she used the wall of smokes for a back scratcher
who knows when the video camera is pointed outward
when the rash goes unlooked at due to insurance ISSUES
what went on at the wall of smokes
in the town in the joke in the politician but he can’t quite remember
if he dreamed the junker bassboat sexting the yacht right or row
the fingernails long ago i’d say look a little in a leaf
if you want to see a bare tree look in yr nail yr seeing a risin moon
7 out of ten of people alive on earth already thought that like
pigeons? rats with wings
be it true in this moment in this poem anon and forever
that the wild dog barks of yore
that they froze in knots as upward they rent
that that spine in you fizz just
the pulsings of upswellings of hollerings of a back hair up moon worshipper so
long ago and darlin we both know
stairs and or sittin upright are pissy
consolation for the wing on a shout at the glow back then
abraham smith
[ 46 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
yes in our every gentle touch there’s a remembrance
ridin on top
of the ol scratch scratch days
when finger was a lightnin
are down to the candle days now
treat yr lions well
our claws erased by time and need
the anemia of a claw our asinine nails have become
truly we are built towards maximum of touching love
why so many smart ones want beat up in love love
truly most people laugh most of the time like they are trying
to start a car in the cold
yes yes the mother woulda killed us
mmm the father too
tho you know he probably
woulda woods slipped his ass
piggy penny saved his ass and sack of
arch seed so how is it wild pup dogs
came to us to our campfires brighter than a trillion dog eye
no easy gloaming in it to it no it must have been
we over-arm-arrowed ‘em dead but not so the tumble
of their eat needy children
and then since no thing is above its stomach
they came on ‘along’
no one can resist little things
little things squeal sweet
the men save them out meat too tough for
what our sleepy teeth are now were then
the women a taming nibble a shoulder scrap a bone
until the heart of the dog became
the cooked meat from the fire and a name
was born from fire again
abraham smith
[ 47 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
the bible an compact of ash when we talk about it
has it wrong when we named it we
lost it its fire
watch yrself in a pus for a mirror
that vinegar at the throatback feelin of hearing
yr own voice on the answering machine
the unnameables tonight
in a fever ‘glee’ maybe i won’t
maim with word quite
the mystery in the sound yip yip bigs our eyes
it’s what we can’t see is what matters in life
likely the worst phrase we humans have is what use is this of mine
but we mustn’t begrudge a business that a human is a livelihood while living okay okay
inevitable man in tight white undergarment fruity looms enters the yard
as silent as an envelope not in transit inevitable this man okay okay
outghosts the ghosts
now if he pulled back on and let snap
the lined rim of the small one thing he has on then that
then that would sound arjuna’s bow arrow among other things
it’s this man’s duty to stand near naked on a june night
in the dead middle of the yard in the dead middle of the night
spidering among him thirty or forty mosquitoes his four limbs
and the serpentine gleam off the barrel mouthed to tiny shine
outghosts the ghosts
moves a little closer towards the fields away from the house
his duty to wait for his once wild eyes to adjust to the darkness
yes he’s waiting for his kid eyes while gangsters fight dogs
far away probably he’s waiting for the coffee night to pee water of kid eyes in his ’dult eyes
while wildly beautiful women call out quietly from an upward window house
behind is everything okay
abraham smith
[ 48 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
is in that one warning shot towards what the stars
a sound for a sound okay okay okay
what would you do after all with ultimate silence
but be dead
and the man plunges deeper
but only to pee on the taller weeds
where the short cut lawn has end
counts his blessings by the skeet bites
knows he is not dead knows that
a body is a miracle what it does not need
it does not need
the salvation of the outside world is in knowing that our names end
ho ho mr farm myrrh
i have always feared shooting up like that because where does it come down
some star blood sport with a suckin wound another thing to
thank distance for thanks
i guess a poem is shooting up like that
but only if we wear the kevlar it’s-rainin-crap hats
probably i talk the townes van zandt penguin joke
into every parakeet shirt you’ll earn thru 2060 dare rill
more lambs die catching themselves in electric fencing than coyotes pick probably
a reasonable science there
i am such a mouth no
rural wants
a mouth needs a demonize
pity fear
and the rabbits in the mother rabbit? tender tinder moonsong promissory
abraham smith
[ 49 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
that a yote is a magic maker
throws every bird learning
the shape of its wings yes it’s yip yip thaAt tooooo ooooooo
no end to what is or could be
let’s baby our eyes sit easy in the head like water in water in the
knowing that that little nowhere creek sleeps light
in the wild dogs won’t be until morning and will be
the temperature of the tea water after the major
upheaval has been smoothed after all morning
the hard thing’s easy when he
she pees it out temperature of a calmed vein
a second life the creek now too has name
for seconds on the ground holding the fire of the heartblood of the yo tea
aloha i abe am kept man an kept man by the yahooooohoooo
yes always getting caught for a century of thought in a hooo
coyote wind over creek water otherwise empty juicy curve’s hair up plucked bready
in celebration or just to say
of the creek water
in between all
our legs it is warming off of
good cold fair forest stone
tea kettle heavy metal not that heavy
hot water is such a nice worker
emergency machinery we have
built to sing at that not-our-dog-pinch-pitch-free
and a public human is rushing a private human
and time is hourglass syringe air and
people in foreign countries pull over to cross themselves
everywhere away
abraham smith
[ 50 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
oooooh when that planet is shaped
where for peace clothes we may wear
no name hound cry out to the onion moon
justy not everybody shares the same sun
some love the bone in sun that’s sun too
for max glow-ency i am packing a bag
my favorite boots to cook bad water in
and one good true brisk image
like fortyfour air guitars
like tryin to haul chandelier squid to the unsquare stove
check that fortythree just broke the dungaree hue one in my way
on my way
to school no one
abraham smith
[ 51 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.4
sean patrick hill
nada gordon
kelly schirmann
[ 55 ] To Hardwar He Took a Camcorder
[ 56 ] Love the One You’re With
nada gordon
[ 57 ] To Hardwar He Took a Camcorder 2
tyler gobble
[ 58 ] Other People’s Property
jess mynes
nada gordon
samuel amadon
[ 53 ] Santa Fe
[ 59 ] I Keep Quiet About My Books
[ 61 ] To Hardwar He Took a Camcorder 3
& thomas hummel [ 62 ] from Controversy
brad harrison
[ 63 ] Beatific Hangover
eric sneathen
[ 64 ] Room 103
krystal languell
dawn sueoka
[ 65 ] Love is the Plan
[ 66 ] What is more hilarious than asking
questions about death?
junior clemons
noel long
carly eichhorn
[ 68 ] Koan
[ 69 ] I confess my bright giddy moments
cm burroughs
[ 70 ] Omen One
sam a. mccormick
[ 71 ] Landscape
paul killebrew
frank fabre
nicole callihan
[ 72 ] from To Literally You
[ 74 ] Young Americans
[ 76 ] Summertime Sundries
[ 52 ]
the equalizer
second series
santa fe
for Heather
This house built on vanished trees
gives way
to a loosening of panthers in dreams heard
in the last and greatest
of your whispers.
In this moment you are commensurate
with your breath
and your continent—its compulsion,
its contemplation.
In this house lives the last face to historicize
a desire
for wonder.
So you say, so desire.
Faith gives loss this herd.
Into your uncreated encounter,
forge and tug
you grope.
Beneath the shrub a kindle
you feed
from bombed, cupped hands,
your fool foliage,
petal, sepal, nadir.
To be secure is to be
American, your surety
part urge and part proof.
Cry these craters into circles of snow.
sean patrick hill
[ 53 ]
sean.patrick.hill .1@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
A laugh in turn
is our country
in the cold panged spring of such-and-such year
articulating
hopes meeting our apprehension,
the river of our religion.
Now we behave in our idiosyncratic and pleasant
fiction,
believing
our equality
attainable furniture and a pocket of money.
The high social purpose of ants—
so easy to stand on the fat of the foot,
to belittle.
For we are cruel
in our adoration.
Highway graved on grammar’s map,
you motorist,
you river in a shape of exceptional happenings,
you will stop,
and cry these circles of snow into craters,
whose white-hot light
was
the millionth history on a line of rails, far
from the explosion.
sean patrick hill
[ 54 ]
sean.patrick.hill .1@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
to hardwar he took a camcorder
Policy of discontainment
By the lime of the lion
Its slow horrible
Internal flurry
I write the discontainment
Following it out into nowhere
Frail and spoodgey
almost bionic
and the music
chrysanthemums
There’s something wander-y
in the filthy shy.
nada gordon
[ 55 ]
nada@ jps.net
the equalizer
second series
love the one you’re with
On the radio
everyone’s heart
is un-held-onto
It tumbles like a miracle
across Colorado & the Plains
You can’t help the way you feel
rings at you in the dark
when you need your aliveness
echoing against a different aliveness
You finger-paint your unique blood
into the most familiar palm
In your mid-to-late twenties
you discover the sages
having sex with one another
on-camera, & feel relief
After all
You don’t go to the ocean
for no reason
You go to practice
what will one day feel effortless
Walking with the one
you’ve been waiting for
In the not-quite dirt
but the not-quite sea
kelly schirmann
[ 56 ]
kellyschirmann.com
the equalizer
second series
2
Policy of disco-tainment
by the lime of the lion
Its show-stoppable
paternal fury
I write the disco-tainment
Following it out into chowder
Palely spongey
almost bio-chic
and the mooing
chrysanthemums
If you have something to say
Don’t say it at all.
nada gordon
[ 57 ]
nada@ jps.net
the equalizer
second series
other people’s property
I rolled out of my teenage bed
Disheveled and sticky not landing a single trick
I tried to make my skateboard turn
She emerged from the gas station
She appeared with a Fudgsicle in hand
And told me to scram
I said WHERE’S THE SIGN
She said I AM THE SIGN
And she threw the Fudgsicle
At my unhelmeted developing head
tyler gobble
[ 58 ]
tylergobble.com
the equalizer
second series
i keep quiet about my books
It happened more quickly than
we’d expected. Is it supposed to
rain all vacation long? With an attitude
like that, yes you are. The
cat wasn’t interested in going
outside until he had been
outside. I’m at a loss for why things
are as they are. Not to
make it sound like I feel wronged
but the sunshine just adds to it. If it rains
before you begin writing you have to
write around the drop
impressions on the page. If it
rains after you’ve written
you have to decipher the smudges.
I’m not going to lie, I was
excited, even anticipatory. Please don’t
destroy my world, I know we
used to share an aesthetic. The distinction
between hare and rabbit. You
can be a part of my world but with
certain stipulations. Chet
must have nodded off in the john.
We’re out of the same
mold. Hold my chisel I have to
make some adjustments. I haven’t
been able to get a signal all weekend.
There’s a pubic hair
on my keyboard and it isn’t
mine. She didn’t mean anything
by it. Let me show you
around the yard. Looking sharp
in your new throwback. When he’s content
he shows you his belly but
it doesn’t mean you can touch.
They froze our assets. At the
foothill of a dream identified as
the color of the day. Try barbaric.
jess mynes
[ 59 ]
the equalizer
second series
Any asshole sightings? Give me a
moment. Moses Malone couldn’t
palm a basketball because of his tiny
hands. Tell me about it. Elliptic
to obovate. Stuck with street
duty. Hooked on isms. Feed me
one poem at a time.
jess mynes
[ 60 ]
the equalizer
second series
3
Policy of discontainment
By the lime of the loon
Its slow warble
as internal fur
I write the disco tunes
Following it with owls
foul and spooky
almost bionic—
and the music climaxes:
chrysanthemums!
There’s something wandery
in my itchy leggings.
nada gordon
[ 61 ]
nada@ jps.net
the equalizer
second series
from controversy
eye
’ve seen picture s
samuel amadon
thomas hummel
[ 62 ]
samuelamadon.com
t.donfred @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
beatific hangover
My friends are suicidal.
In of all places Texas, where trees swallow
entire nights in swollen arms. We are,
after all, candlelight soldiers, soldered
to the open, obligatory clouds
and these curtains just keep going
and in the confusion I drop my bong,
and no I do not plan on dying.
In mornings toweling off in the arctic
quiet, waist wound from the window up,
a murder of leaves. On the contrary,
tooth marks on hearts. On the contrary,
I remember so much: the sky on the contrary,
a flutter of sleeves in my hands sometimes,
and yours, and the sky sometimes, fill me up
thunderhead with your mascara strings
tethered to lamps, and you know the kind
I mean. I mean I’m honestly at this point
only trying to save myself.
bradley harrison
[ 63 ]
smith.bradleyh@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
room
103
as he presses my father’s coarseness
into me breaks silver
he calls me up buddy
your glitter is so deftly marvelous
these little indiscretions of mine?
& how will you not forgive me?
it’s my father’s scalp streaming silver
silver clouds & silver spoons
say this hotel is no hell or graveyard
yellowed like dandelions
it’s your whiskers in my ears
as you rub me another lullaby
tell me listen to the moon
my pale heart
what a father we might make
eric sneathen
[ 64 ]
the equalizer
second series
love is the plan
I give a little help for you plus something new
And a little more until my now is cracked
Look what mess I made of it trying to be good
The game limits how often you can renew
When victory was in me, you would think of him
Once you question what replacement will
What departures our dialogue will open, my dear
We are sad in a post office kissing in front of strangers
We are hiding from the soldiers—why always
No one will take the world away from you
I only want to not feel ugly in it taking firm steps
I don’t mind your debt—the plan is death
krystal languell
[ 65 ]
krystal .languell @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
what is more hilarious than asking questions about death?
Asking really hilarious questions about death.
A tiger with its pink tongue.
A tiger circling the sun.
Love is hilarious,
and so is croquet. But love
wears a mask through the mall and croquet
is only fun when you’re high.
There is a gap in my
chest as I watch you sleep.
It is more hilarious than the sun, the
sun which binds us
and swallows our dreams.
Last night I had a single dream.
It was an idiot’s dream, of a leaping
tiger, severed eye.
dawn sueoka
[ 66 ]
lavieenmeow.wordpress.com
the equalizer
second series
permaculture cont’d
the body for example,
or the mouth
one might not exist with
out the other / one
might not matter—
odd this sameness.
and they’d like to know
where is the sun
(Eventually, September 22 2009, San Francisco)
junior clemons
[ 67 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
koan
Where are you going?
What are you doing?
Why are you here?
These are things I hear
Every day. Every day
The city plays.
Like a horn.
Plays a rabbit’s horn.
Plays the way
I play. I play all ways.
Always stays moving.
Moving never going.
Going and doing.
No never moving.
The city. The day.
The way the way plays.
noel long
[ 68 ]
zen.com
the equalizer
second series
i confess my brightest giddy moments
I confess my brightest giddy moments
and you laugh behind chandelier doors
the moon rakes perpetuating these
hot cakes on a sandy form
rock the thoughts of the followers
marine retribution folklore
retains that hedonistic cows of another faith
whisk the municipal courts away
propane lanterns speak
secret lightning notions to
create iron delusional task forces
made of incognito bona fide geniuses
carly eichhorn
[ 69 ]
carlycalista@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
omen one
To put your hands into the machine will mean to be overcome, so that you are black or all that
you will say is “black,” because it hasn’t a name. You are overcome because it is unnamed and
you want to call it. You call it and want for it, hymn and rivet, to come. You will suffer desire;
suffer it.
cm burroughs
[ 70 ]
cmburroughs @ mac.com
the equalizer
second series
landscape
To your right is a field
that touches the sky
with its golden flowers
and birds catching fire
under the blue light
of the moon shining
behind clouds
silver and black shaking
over your head
as you whisper
in its centermost grasses
reaching up towards
your face your words
of undeniable smallness
grip the throat
as you move closer
to the surface to take in
the details pointing to
depths more
and vast than you at first
imagined they could be
staggering backwards
your figure disappears
as you realize the words
hovering in the air
are the ghosts of the field
sam a. mccormick
[ 71 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
from to literally you
Who do you know here, exactly? Desire
to be temporary
as an era
retreating as it advances
in massive blobs
obscuring its movement,
sheets of earliness trailing onto the floor
or what we think the 1990s represents,
like as an artwork,
a ground or a sky, ordinary crime.
No one twenty years ago,
no one now.
A grass blade arcs over another
in the music of space
with so little known about anything,
much less each other,
and, to be clear,
I have the least hope in myself,
I’m all out there
in the promising distance
where there seem to be plenty of adults,
though too many explanations
given the number
of bona fide consequences.
We share that blame
like a last name
among those of no relation,
a default setting
requiring constant readjustment.
What can one do
but step carefully
around the perverse reveries
of the snowmen who have taken over
this once-peaceful neighborhood of animals?
Over in the shadows
of their strained retorts,
I pronounce the marriage
of prohibition and permission
paul killebrew
[ 72 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
and descend the lunar staircase
through the seven houses of the future zodiac:
Wrinkle of Lip,
Shoulder Blade,
Lungs,
Elbow Skin,
Undifferentiated Gonad,
Hamstring,
and Center Toenail.
paul killebrew
[ 73 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
young americans
washington
adams
jefferson
madison
monroe
quincy adams
jackson
van buren
w.h. harrison
tyler
polk
taylor
fillmore
pierce
buchanan
lincoln
a. johnson
grant
hayes
garfield
arthur
cleveland
b. harrison
cleveland (2)
mckinley
t. roosevelt
taft
wilson
frank fabre
[ 74 ]
poetsagainstthewar.org
the equalizer
second series
harding
coolidge
hoover
f.d. roosevelt
truman
eisenhower
kennedy
l.b. johnson
nixon
ford
carter
reagan
g. bush
clinton
g.w. bush
obama
frank fabre
[ 75 ]
poetsagainstthewar.org
the equalizer
second series
summertime sundries
1 oz. almonds, coffee (black).
On the outside, the apples looked fresh. Cut into them, and they’re bruised.
Woke up having bled on the sheets. Outside: mist and birds.
Clean the ceiling fan; make hair appointment; locate streamers; don’t eat too much.
I worry that come September Eva will have forgotten how to read.
“The nostalgia police were flashing their high-beams.”
I thought it was a dream, but it wasn’t. The deer just ran off.
“She had a hungry face.”
Eva sends a letter to Gaza & Israel. Find peace, she writes. Or come to New York. You should
hide closer to God.
Maybe the Pink Ladies will be better.
What should I tell the monsters?
If at one final grasp at youth you come off as sooooo middle-aged then you are sooooo middleaged.
If there are drive-thru prayer shacks then you don’t have to leave your car.
If self-pity is a lipstick color then my lips are ruby red.
“I borrow someone else’s form what else is a body?”
An old book on wasps and grace: our marriage isn’t the problem, you are the problem.
Of course other people think too. I just don’t know about what.
1.5 oz. almonds, an apple.
nicole callihan
[ 76 ]
nicolecallihan @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
Before bed I sat in the hammock and listened to the stars.
The yellow house is a place of forgiveness.
If you don’t have anyone else to forgive, then you can just forgive yourself.
The pimple on which I put the toothpaste has disappeared.
There is forgiveness and disappearance and a squirrel.
Thinking we should serve pinwheels. Eva wants a piñata. Am I too old to swing a bat?
“We don’t want to be lonely, but we are.”
On the last page of every book the baby proclaims THE END.
If endings were so simple I wouldn’t need water.
Remember how the body goes?
Fox-glove. Thigh-high weeds and the boys who pull them.
The friend of a friend who went by the name of an animal.
In the country, I suck Diet Coke back like it’s my bitch.
But what of us who are bubbles?
A single room in the mansion of self, a sensitivity to touch.
“I think there is hope if only because there is repetition in you.”
I want a signature scent that is not too powdery.
When I feed the girls fish sticks for dinner, I feel virtuous. Really, I do.
Though I can spell, I can’t make a decent cocktail. No. really, I can’t.
nicole callihan
[ 77 ]
the equalizer
second series
If I do, promise you’ll lock me in a pretty cabin.
Maybe the moon is different in Montauk. Maybe the moon in Montauk is different on Instagram.
Maybe Instagramming the moon on Montauk makes you different.
Had I remembered the hole, I wouldn’t have stepped in it.
And then we started again.
The truth is somewhere between the new light bulb and the burned out one, and the truth is:
that was the hardest pill I ever had to swallow.
He says, Everything OK? I say, yes. The children are screaming. There is a shadow and a
rabbit, and I’m hungry. Alright then. Alright.
It made a lump in my throat for weeks.
But I find the mumbling mesmerizing.
I refuse to put popcorn into another poem. To put something into your body, ad nauseam, is one
thing. To put it on the page is another.
The things we put into our body and the things we do not.
There will be cake too.
1 slice ww toast, 1 tbsp. miso paste, ½ avocado, coffee with almond milk
Let me check with my husband and I’ll get back to you.
“Excuse me. Are those jellyfish?”
Though it was a beautiful home it didn’t work out because of the pedophile next door.
The neighbors. Fences, flowers, foxes.
My God. Everything is like everything.
nicole callihan
[ 78 ]
the equalizer
second series
Again.
Gin.
Make the bed; shake the comforter; plump the pillow; that’s it.
“This shit is so simple.”
Eat one ounce of almonds; read a blog about self-care; envision yourself as a self-care bloggist;
tell people to eat almonds; tell them in a pretty font; insert picture of almonds here: XXX.
I like loose, soft clothes and potato salad.
I like me.
This is the good sober life.
These are the cloth napkins.
It’s easy to disappear.
On the promenade there was a photograph of a mother and her child in a cave.
Hashtag refuge.
Hashtag recovery.
“Hashtag this is the soul’s migration in language.”
We’d like to shift the d in dead Mike to a cap; i.e. Dead Mike.
To hide me from your timeline is forgivable. I would probably hide me too.
Not waving but drowning; not cooking but smoking.
I make a mean macaroni casserole and only smoke electronic cigarettes before noon. You?
nicole callihan
[ 79 ]
the equalizer
second series
Q. Why must we have cookies flown in from France?
A. Because they are so good, and they taste like fancy perfume.
You are neither good nor do you taste like fancy perfume.
Oh stop, I’m not so bad. Just thirsty.
Listen: your only task for the party is to find a lifeguard. The last thing we need is a pool full
of dead bodies.
Okay, okay. But who will get the hats?
nicole callihan
[ 80 ]
the equalizer
second series
I scratch my head
because I know
it’s empty. Hot & cold
are equal terms.
I give up my identity
to write to you.
Jerome Rothenberg
[ 81 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.5
kenneth goldsmith
[ 83 ] Stonewall
[ 82 ]
the equalizer
second series
stonewall
Most of the men are wearing outer jackets. They aren’t wearing so much leather or denim.
Some men wear top hats.
The lighting is dim throughout.
The darkness creates a cavern-like feel. Smoky air fills the bar.
The men like to wear perfumes, such as Tabu and Ambush, both marketed to women,
whose aromas give the place a rich, saturated atmosphere.
If the Tenth of Always is like a little parish church, the Stonewall is like St. Peter’s in Rome
. . . It is big in its scope . . .
It is possible to buy any known substance available in capsule form. All the hairdressers
are into Desbutols, Desoxyn mixed with Nembutol.
Shangri-Las, Diana Ross, “Let It Be Me,” Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, “Third Finger,
Left Hand,” “Forget Me Not,” Dionne Warwick.
The arrival of the cops and the blare of the lights transforms the scene from one of festivity
to sadness.
The jukeboxes fall silent, and the shimmering go-go boys leave their cages to put on their
street clothes.
The transvestites put up a great resistance, refusing to go into the Stonewall’s bathrooms
to be “examined.”
A couple of drag queens dance by themselves to a Stevie Wonder tune on the jukebox.
When did you ever see a fag fight back?
Grumbling can be heard among the limp wristed set.
More and more people start to mill around the front.
kenneth goldsmith
[ 83 ]
ubu.com
the equalizer
second series
Ostentatious drag queens walking in twos and threes down Christopher towards the bar,
shrieking little sentences.
It is a hot, seething night. A real New York summer night.
What’s going on? Is something going to happen? Why is this taking so long?
The drag queens kind of chant and skitter along. It’s entertaining.
The crowd on Christopher Street continues to grow as the club’s ejected patrons reach the
pavement where they are joined by a considerable number of tourists who, having come to the
Village on a Friday night looking for excitement, find it for free on the street.
We all figured that the Black Panthers were going to start the revolution.
One young man swishes by the detective posted at the door. “Hello there, fella!”
Wrists are limp, hair is primped.
No one knows this is going to turn into a riot.
Some of the men ejected from the bar throw their arms up and out in a V shape as if they
are performers making a grand entrance on a stage.
Noticing the crowd’s skittish hilarity, he pauses to peer up at the moon. It’s full.
The first prisoners to be loaded inside the paddy wagon are members of the Mafia, who are
brought out of the club one by one.
Everyone hears the cry that reverberates through the night air” “Gay Power!”
The idea seems too unreal, too radical, to be taken seriously, and the newly heard slogan
soon dissolves into giggles.
Someone begins to sing “We Shall Overcome” and a few in the crowd start singing along. But
after a few verses this, too, seems too dignified to be taken seriously by a bunch of homosexuals,
who begin to camp on the solemn lyrics.
kenneth goldsmith
[ 84 ]
ubu.com
the equalizer
second series
A police officer shoves one of the transvestites, who turns and smacks the officer over the
head with her purse.
“Nobody’s going to fuck around with me. I ain’t going to take this shit,” a guy in a dark red
t-shirt shouts, dancing in and out of the crowd.
A “beefy, good-sized, typical New York butch” loses her mind in the streets of the West
Village—kicking, cursing, screaming, and fighting. It is the moment when the scene becomes
explosive.
All four tires of a police car are slashed.
A cobblestone is hauled, landing on the trunk of a police car with a terrible screech.
The gay throng makes a useful discovery: a large stack of new bricks at a construction site
on Seventh Avenue South.
Coins are thrown at the policemen, making pinging sounds as they hit the pavement and
the Stonewall Inn’s windows.
Shouts of “Pigs!” and “Faggot cops!” fill the night air.
Pennies and dimes. Nickels were the next thing to be thrown. Followed by quarters.
A glass bottle is lobbed.
And then another one comes flying through the dark air. And another.
On the ground, a worm’s eye view. Looking at legs.
Inside the Stonewall, the cops barricade themselves using the club’s tables against the
doors.
It is silent and dark and dank and strongly smells of beer.
The fey beings have suddenly and inexplicably metamorphosed into raging tigers.
kenneth goldsmith
[ 85 ]
ubu.com
the equalizer
second series
The officers, who fought in Africa and Sicily in World War II are still shaking an hour later.
“Believe me, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I’m sick of being told I’m sick.
Inside the Stonewall, bricks pound the door. The floor shudders with each blow.
The police trapped inside peer through peepholes into the street.
“Where are the reinforcements?” “I don’t know. There must be some mix-up.”
Pieces of paper are stuffed into cracks at the bottom of the plywood inside the Stonewall’s
window and cigarette lighters are held up to them.
A parking meter is dug up out of the ground and is used as battering ram on the Inn’s doors.
The attack on the police creates a cacophony as the sounds of glass shattering up and down
the street is mixed with the pounding of the parking meter on the doors, while cries of “Liberate
bar!” fill the air.
Breaking bottles are thrown at demonstrators from apartment dwellers along Grove Street
who want to get some sleep.
We’re the pink panthers!
A mad Negro queen whirls like a dervish with a twisted piece of metal in her hand and
breaks the remaining windows.
The doors begin to give.
The night reverberates again with the boom of the parking meter on the Stonewall’s doors.
In the park across the street, several people quietly and methodically pour liquid into empty
Coke bottles.
The flames are blue and have little yellow tips.
kenneth goldsmith
[ 86 ]
ubu.com
the equalizer
second series
Everybody is really perspiring—I mean really sweating.
People are crying. People are cut up.
A policewoman escapes through a vent up to the roof.
The detectives locate a fire hose, but can’t see where to aim it, wedging the hose through a
crack in the door. It sends out a weak stream.
One of the kids shouts, “Grab it! Grab his cock!”
The door is broken down.
Squirt it with lighter fluid, and ignite it.
Huge flashes of flame and billows of smoke.
Kids line up in a Rockette lines, kicking their legs up at the police.
“The girls in blue” and “Lily Law.”
The protests continue into the night. Angry gay men set fires in trash cans and break store
windows, screaming “Gay power! Gay power!”
Well, this is boring. All we’re doing is running around the block, here. We’ve done it ten
times now and it’s dull. Let’s do something else.
So we sort of vanished.
Christopher Street is empty. The sky is very dark, there is a terrific moon, and the Village
is eerily quiet.
Morning comes to Christopher Street, diamondlike glass all over.
kenneth goldsmith
[ 87 ]
ubu.com
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.6
amanda montei
víctor valera mora
samuel amadon
[ 89 ] Dear Jon,
[ 91 ] Teoría y Solfeo
danielle pafunda
[ 94 ] Be sure, I had a best friend when I met you
patrick whitfill
[ 95 ] Curiosity (V)
andrea henchey
[ 97 ] Rut
junior clemons
cm burroughs
anselm berrigan
[ 99 ] The Authority of a White Room
[ 100 ] Degrets
paul vargas
[ 101 ] Stacy, Fail to the Ace
grace quick
[ 102 ] Shakuntula
daniel nester
carly eichhorn
eric sneathen
evan commander
dawn sueoka
jennifer l . knox
brett price
kevin varrone
[ 104 ] from Adagia
[ 107 ] The Bored’s Prayer
[ 108 ] The Vanishing Race
[ 109 ] Room 105
[ 110 ] Mr. AIDS Mr. AIDS
[ 111 ] Untitled
[ 112 ] Following News of the Orange Iceberg
[ 113 ] Near-Sighted
[ 114 ] How to Count to Ten
[ 88 ]
the equalizer
second series
dear jon,
What I mean is
word that means
what I mean
I am not
a soldier
writing to you
but I’m fighting
a baby battle
I am not
sitting in
The Worst Place
in the World
To Be A Woman
but someone is
I am always
undercutting
myself
without poignancy
so is there me
All of life
before we were
married
is there life
but this
is not
our exchange
it never
will be
amanda montei
[ 89 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
I am not
a sad woman
afraid of the cold
and the dark
and the men
who laugh at me
oh am I
amanda montei
[ 90 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
teoría y solfeo
Cuando amo despejo las terrazas
La noche es el sol contenido en los huesos
de las bestias muertas
Mis espaldas hendidas por la mecánica celeste
En tu cuerpo me tenso como un arco
y derribo las puertas y estallo en las alturas
y la rama dorada se me ofrece
Voy hasta el fondo
El asunto es de pura animalidad
Somos tú y yo y la poética
víctor valera mora
[ 91 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
music theory
When I love I clear the terraces
The night is the sun contained in the bones
of dead beasts
My back is broken by celestial mechanics
In your body, I tense like a bow
shooting down doors and bursting into heights
I am offered a golden branch
I am going to the bottom
The matter is only animal
It’s you and me and poetics
& Guillermo Parra
víctor valera mora
[ 92 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
from controversy
these hymns
put who to task
non-confidential memos
of commonsense
put who to task
A not-untrusting compeer once said to me, Rod
Elsewheres. The night before. Driven to note what’s next.
(repeat)
thwack
Carloads of sights to fill you full of wax
flack
Less a real evening (bookshelf) maybe more like a
Cars were in some mountains waiting to be mined, tires
Who seeks a spot to sit, to let the unease flow
Who seeks a spot to sit, to let the unease flow
non-confidential memos
Cars were in some mountains waiting to be mined, tires
You tell me where containment exists and I’ll stop.
Right, like I was saying, in Alta Califor
You tell me where containment exists and I’ll stop.
And so they were, as it’s said, burning time, that night.
Oath that minds. Oath that reminds. Oath that unites us.
I’m a doormat talking as if I’m a kingpin.
A not-untrusting compeer once said to me, Rod
samuel amadon
thomas hummel
[ 93 ]
samuelamadon.com
the equalizer
second series
be sure, i had a best friend when i met you
Be sure, I had a best friend when I met you.
I was chock full of dirty rats, supper club
tables, tumbling superstar, glass shattered.
I cried hotly well through my thirties.
I had a ring of familiars. Who were you
to glisten so hard, bawling,
bailing out my well? Slugging
a salty kapow, your shirt turned inside
inside. Inside the cuff of your jacket
where they stitch a spare brass button
I stitched the spent muscle
that was my tongue, a gem
from the spit-valve, your dopey
rhythm gone stuffing its wet-snout
business of life and death and sex again.
danielle pafunda
[ 94 ]
dpafunda@ uwyo.edu
the equalizer
second series
curiosity (v)
May all be very well. – Akkadian Greeting
Pretend for a moment that afterlives exist.
Souls ascend, descend, appropriately,
according to whatever system makes the most
sense: good, up; bad, down. Good, here. Bad,
way out there. It doesn’t matter. Pretend that
we could exorcise decency in this manner.
Last night, I watched for only the second time
The Pianist and thought the ghetto scene later
in the war, before the first rising up, where
the Nazi Colonel randomly yanks men out of
their work line to shoot them in the head,
pausing to reload his gun, did happen
historically. And if that did happen—and not
just then but any time in the sick lifeline
scarred into the palm of history—where some
man or woman purposefully obliterated life to
celebrate the wingspan of cruelty in its finest
throttle, I wonder what happens next,
epistemologically speaking, I guess, in that
murderer’s life’s schema. What I need before I
can agree on anything existing beyond just
the temporal and annoying is proof that
consequences exist that go beyond the body
universal. I need everyone at home to turn off
the movie, hold each other over the popcorn
bowl and bourbon and over the dishes
concentrating into themselves their dozen
distinct sets of ketchup-stained fingerprints.
patrick whitfill
[ 95 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Already, we’ve begun the process, surprisingly
tedious though it proves to be, of picking
Earth’s first colonists on Mars. I would like to
propose that we can still hope that all of those
people who deserve an afterlife comprised
years away from anyone else who would like
nothing more than some cotton candy
popsicles and maybe another person to run
their fingers along the nape of his or her neck
while they watch a television show about
cupcakes, that those other people, the ones
who have killed with anything approaching
a suitably applicable definition of glee, the ones
who deserve what we might as well call Hell,
would have to colonize Mars, and never get
anywhere with it, never find the well-spring,
never make the air better, never stop radiation
from peeling the skin off of their eyelids, even
though they will have a certain topical cream
that comes in aerosol form that they have to
use every night, if Mars even has a night long
enough to do so, where they must spray their
eyelids back on, which takes hours and hours,
so they can close them just for a little while.
patrick whitfill
[ 96 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
rut
In a rut or in rut? A track worn
by wheels? Restlessness, lust?
Rut: the groove, the furrow? Or rut:
the furred, hot-blooded milk-drinkers?
The dirt road’s rutted: channel’s carved so
deeply fingers slip in inches. Itches, thirsts.
Oh, the mammals. The wheels.
The ineluctable forces. The urge.
andrea henchey
[ 97 ]
andreahenchey.com
the equalizer
second series
severed moments or
a smidge of peonies—
exist / indivisible but still
sore all over. suppose we carry
the sun (an unbroken white
in palms or slung over shoulders
and trees too, but trees
are the first moment
the hi-low habit of being
contracts the room consistent
always sacred young & filled
still bright
(Deck, March 22 2009, San Diego)
junior clemons
[ 98 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
the authority of a white room
Fig moths pitch refracting filament. I close
my eyes. In the afterimage are couples made
of blood. Who bleeds? Who doesn’t? If milk is
the first thing to happen I wake in a pool of milk.
From here, I shift into catalogues of fixation.
.
cm burroughs
[ 99 ]
the equalizer
second series
degrets
live updating: the spins, pretty sure the Bears
coveted me, but their needs precluded picking
me, there were safeties available, & their safeties
were junk last year, twine on unstretched canvas
tarp on wood support, then I come to wondering
what a manner precisely is, body exercising stages
of control, distortions of accompaniment, mouth
fighting through evol-flop compression to leap
and leak, but who the fuck am I watching so as
to be talking, who, as the voiceover, doubly
disembodied, puts it, did this to us, oil on rubber
tire and packing crate panel, plates 164-165
because you hid in the walls doing work we came
to Cleveland, ink notch resembles consequence
my liver cavity would like to interject, to be winter
twisting the gripes of cripes-crepes hippo groping
between e-chairs, the living room needs a bog to
tie all the practiced refuse together, fear agent jelly
brains evolving from utopian to scavenger, yet we
elude proof, the inner crackpot and the inner
bureaucrat are not one, & so divinity is an affect
of habit, is it funny shaped out live like a head
is it shapes assembling itself into origins, or what
passes as recreation, to pitch beats as a plot, now
you got a slow explosion replacing your head, days
hanging off sticks, no one has to fold up a care
anselm berrigan
[ 100 ]
anselmberrigan @aol .com
the equalizer
second series
stacy, fail to the ace
Enter a room too soon.
Dragooned to play the loon?
Loom, and watch the bishops
in their ivory miters swoon.
This play will end in ruin,
anyway. No one ever moves
to act; the cues, scribbled blithely
by a grimy, blacked-out writer,
presume a hallucinated troupe,
carrying a lively tune.
It’s enough to make one sick.
Thin strips, that costume: clothing
only fit to thicken men
who’ve held their urges back.
This work will leave you loathing.
Yet loathing whom? Look around
this tomb. See clowns clutching
pink balloons; newsmen combing
rocket-sharp hair and shining
shit-brown shoes; bosses howling
fevered sermons, slaying
demons only they could birth, and
rousing fervor in the doomed.
Ten eparchs take a bath,
and a single, solitary deacon,
bouncing in a high chair, laughs.
Crooks in thrall to scandal.
No one holds a candle.
Break the zoo. Bow and
scrape. But once these piss-poor
flocks of chicken-gapes purge
themselves apart, leave the room.
paul vargas
[ 101 ]
omniality.com
the equalizer
second series
shakuntala
desire
earth
near honey
that I am near her
dismissal of a body to dismantle
if grapes that awoke mature
to the only one here
a time comes
when we to small blows
drink
I can say that
in comparison with is-not
that the expression “all the girls”
with the conviction that
“What,” said the Truth
“gives a boy here
a girl with living needs
& she knows that that this boy will take of the principle always and”
Its eyes
do hang
Divide It
you’re welcome
rent his remainder of thought
here in this his place
then to me in my cushion
*
grace quick
[ 102 ]
lives in tesuque
the equalizer
second series
I
this night
her
we should feel us
the town is small
leather jacket
on a racetrack
we small streak
the need at night to small everything
grace quick
[ 103 ]
lives in tesuque
the equalizer
second series
from adagia
1. Our men on Mars don’t taste in vain with themselves.
2. Bum horse in the ditch, along with one’s talents.
3, Don’t leave the house with your face on it.
4. Hate potion.
5. Delight in all narrators.
6. Descended dice discount.
7. Many bony queens.
8. The hero’s brother stinks.
9. Do the buses have toes?
10. Where the aberrations have no name.
11. In the vicinity, we salute your nose.
12. It’s your territory.
13. After the lesbians sing.
14. That lasso quits.
15. The inelegant ways we are free.
16. The nose turns up at the mention of beech tar.
17. Rising like excrement into the women’s mouths.
18. The new whores we’re under.
19. The king’s brain up and exploded.
20. Non-movement is also a movement.
21. Hey, cornhole head: live it up.
22. Christ, crass ditties.
23. My sore ultimate navigator
24. We are all attracted to your large lap.
25. In the woods no one can hear you freestyle.
26. The mutant moon’s soil.
27. The vicissitudes of Rerun’s everything-ness.
28. Invite the cannibal to come inside.
29. It is very late for an ass queef.
30. A wrist and pennies and Cleanth Brooks let loose.
31. In the cave where you keep your trophies, your prophecy.
32. I don’t respect secrets in music.
33. Fig trees, motherfuckers.
34. The red pills you lost in a dream were really white.
35. The Good Person’s Lion’s Club.
36. The branches from your mouth.
37. We trade secret operas, stroke each other like birds.
38. Stroke my African furriness.
daniel nester
[ 104 ]
danielnester.com
the equalizer
second series
39. There’s no pill for your face.
40. You can’t buy your way to my nuts.
41. The air is filled with Olympian overhype.
42. Quivers regarding dignity.
43. Sing your neighbor’s cortex.
44. Take Athena’s consultations with a grain of boot sweat.
45. Where there are no sissies on fire, there is no nightlife.
46. The first policeman. Changed policeman.
47. The ex-frontmen contradict each other.
48. Navigate anti-crass.
49. Bible’s strychnine.
50. No more Porkies!
51. Too, too, too much Styrofoam.
52. Melle Mel lists off gladiators.
53. Let us mull.
54. SUNY Genesco: always adding it up.
55. Take bits out of life’s butt.
56. Destroy all horndogs with pocket combs.
57. Sleepwalking toward the cicada’s chirps.
58. Pile for Leyna (cf. Billy Joel).
59. Test the Pegasus.
60. Planets equal.
61. The land flies.
62. Out of an oak tree a stone is born.
63. Landing in the Cato Institute.
64. Sapped, sipped, sapped.
65. Pile on causes on the paper.
66. Good red ducks.
67. Be timid and prosper.
68. We all need our Diomedes.
69. Toward the pristine we prosper.
70. The bachelor’s anus.
71. Flare Novocain and tumble.
72. Celebrate an elephant’s parents.
73. Bees walk and handle the hairy.
74. Gold ones.
75. Tequila in numb volunteer secretaries
76. Your intercontinental ballistic missile is gross.
daniel nester
[ 105 ]
danielnester.com
the equalizer
second series
77. Is every question a secret accident?
78. I hate curvy lemon-eggs.
79. To hell with ornamentation!
80. Hold on to that two-edged battle-penis.
81. Burn carbs using a Thesaurus wrongly.
82. Eight soldiers would rather go see Wicked than go home.
83. Alone again, current conqueror.
84. I reckon that lion’s talon got right up in the fox’s witness-hide.
85. Everyone named Ashley is new here.
86. Of fruitcakes, trees, and holding the saltshaker.
87. Sacrifice the second pre-chorus for a guitar fill.
88. I dove into those old inequalities like a horse in heat.
89. Hercules’ anus nods.
90. Ultraman puts it to Marx like nobody’s business.
91. It’s not like this is something.
92. Carmelo carries a complete assload.
93. All canals smell the same.
94. The shepherd-god sleeps.
95. Mature, sated, he sat at the evil bar.
96. Elephantus non capit murem.
97. Hang your hair, girl and let it.
98. Mary, Mary, why ya getting in the water?
99. The river comes with a certain virginity.
100. Balls-on-balls action better recognize.
daniel nester
[ 106 ]
danielnester.com
the equalizer
second series
the bored’s prayer
decisions are like fireflies
and when you can’t make them
you stub your toes into a block of butter that
smoking mothers singed lips kissed
the lords choir child
pulsates with the sea music
that is dressed in robes and your prom dress
an album surrounding the concept of
sticking needles in the sky again
fiasco time is here
with swindled furniture tax money
and irritating rash lashings that I gave to you
my cries hurt my eyes
while you just stood there with your arms crossed
begging for magic to swoop in like a fantastic hue
I eat radishes filled with blood
the roots of a huge story that never ends
with a life of sobriety
the lines on the road tick by and mice surround
everyone in the shape of their shadows
we exist only to confuse
and place blame on a sickened mind without
breaks or wheelbarrow handles
shaved nubs to grasp
like your dark head in fleeting thought
carly eichhorn
[ 107 ]
the equalizer
second series
the vanishing race
Were finding it out
On to where else
she still looks
star (red pictogram)
Home of a radical druggist
out with
of
paper of carbon
[ 108 ]
the equalizer
second series
room
105
it’s here where i put my bundle
of lavender & spiders
come in to build their webs
intricately networked spokes
& nodes scintillate with our strain
it’s hotel magic
where frogs chirp & locusts chime
& the world swims next to itself
as if there was no need for air or food
or a firm place to land
the hotel where i don’t know your name or how
your occupation slowly defeats you
back into my arms
it’s here where an unseen force leaves me
clenching my teeth against
& striking out in plain air
eric sneathen
[ 109 ]
the equalizer
second series
mr. aids mr. aids
Mr. AIDS Mr. AIDS wordless kitty kitty noises
The cat’s real name is Mr. Darcy but after
The diagnoses little time was wasted before
Renaming him repetition by friends has lead
To my use of the moniker I feel guilty every
Time but can’t help it Mr. AIDS Mr. AIDS
Mr. AIDS I started an email account for him
So we could talk after he died the password’s
A random series of numbers I immediately
Forgot me and email spent last night handIn-hand again I’m just getting used to living
Alone like being eaten alive feet first
So you can watch it happen only without
The teeth and the terrifying thing there
To actually eat you so maybe it’s more
Like being inhaled alive my apartment
Has taken on the look of an archeological
Site things exist in gridded piles of likeness
Across the floor Pile 1: Semi-organized papers
And notes Pile 2: Books stacked roughly by
Genre one of the stacks sits apart from the rest
And is always slightly closer at hand it consists
Of a specific selection of three or four books
The combination of which I’m certain holds
The answer to what I’m supposed to do next
The creation of this stack’s a daily ritual Pile
3: Dirty clothes Pile 4: Clean clothes Pile 5:
Various construction materials woodglue
Paint tools etc these are never used but
The possibilities held within their use allows
Me to sleep at night one of the books insists
Vito Acconci is the only artist to elevate
Masturbation to the level of architecture
Another begs to differ given what a jackoff
Frank Gehry is a French baker with tinfoil
I wanted to be an architect but the thought of
Making a place where someone had to go
Five days a week for the rest of their life
Freaked me out no one thinks to blame
The architects but we should
evan commander
[ 110 ]
evancommander @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
untitled
What takes the longest steps in the fewest days
days that get hotter
days that get better.
Don’t listen to me—no,
listen to me.
In this house of brunch,
EVERYTHING IS LOVELY:
the beating of cushions,
the cry of a fly.
My mind is a breeze that
relaxes my mind.
My mind is a can, don’t listen to me.
Look it up in this summer’s e-newsletter.
You’ll see that adjusting to your host culture
is a lot like making your bed.
Haha, ok, thanks!
It’s like I mentioned before: the days
get longer the days get
shorter. Shame falters for
fear of what can’t be taken back.
Grief enters,
it makes a clean break.
dawn sueoka
[ 111 ]
the equalizer
second series
following news of the orange iceberg
she tells the snooty check-out cow, “Hope you get
raped by a zombie, bitch.” Her cart overfloweth:
strawberry whipped lard Spungee Buns, buffalo
bacon cheese balls, Xtreeme sour cream, all charged
to a Visa nicked from an old man in the parking lot,
left him broke-neck in rising dreck. Such deaths are
but baby steps in the exodus, she thinks. That mountain
of reusable grocery bags: rabbits’ feet. We’re sliding
through, already drowning on the other side. No more
nightmares over sun bear bile farms. Animals know
and beckon record tides, “Come!” We burned them
bad. No more please-slash-thank yous. On the cover
of a magazine: how-tos for bath salt highs, home
invasions, boiling the rain wrung out from a dream . . .
jennifer l . knox
[ 112 ]
jenniferlknox.com
the equalizer
second series
near-sighted
for Will Edmiston
sleep vultures sweep the lid
its full-contact logic
all Lacan all the time with that guy
“trust-fund casual?”
nah, gave it up
for lung-tide
where certain kids become
laughter’s drum kit
in palms vulnerable
wake suspended ode states
denunciated lassos
active green
something surprises
that new work
could improve
old hat
no temple yet temple
just like you going lone wolf about it
talk with extremists
render fears truly
and banish not my spine
from the agents I send
brett price
[ 113 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
how to count to ten
the important thing about one
is that it stands alone. like a song
or storm, it can be enough. causal
or caused by something.
beautiful, or caused by something beautiful
like surprise. there is nothing more
tender than one & the important thing
is that it stands tall,
without a flag, or cry, unblowing, stoic,
alone
kevin varrone
[ 114 ]
kvarrone @ temple.edu
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about two
is that it’s always nearly one,
having lost something, having known
the hurt of being again
alone, an ugly duckling turned swan
on its own. two is the again of again
& that’s the important thing about it, not
again & thinking
about you
in absentia
kevin varrone
[ 115 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about three
is that there’s always a one
to factor into the equation. triangulation
& whisper. a shortest distance
continued beyond its comfort zone:
coupling taken to a triumverate
kevin varrone
[ 116 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about four is lack
& how it cannot by the laws of physics
exist. a four cannot stand
(as most often written by a child’s hand):
unless divided it will topple over
& if divided has every trouble of two.
in typography the tipped triangle
is often tied-in fore and mid-aft
to the vertical shaft like a truss
but the important thing about four
is that it’s a sail & a mast
& like us, needs air
& wants a boat
kevin varrone
[ 117 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about five
is its prehensility. five is a hand
to be drawn or held out.
as surely as there is an allseeing
eye there is five
& the beaming vulnerability
of being almost outside of time.
five is not eight; five is not nature;
and the important thing about five
is that it’s been battered by weather,
by winter, by middle-age
but the bill of its cap is still firm
& its unbowed & well-fed
kevin varrone
[ 118 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about six
is its circle. like a hurricane
that’s found its eye,
six is something prodigal come home
something of forgiveness
something whispering something
we can’t quite hear
kevin varrone
[ 119 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about seven is its angle
like the jut of a cliff & the suggestion of sea
shrouded in a fog
that might receive you.
if only you could muster the courage to leap,
a sea or death might receive you like someone
who’s been waiting a long time for your arrival,
someone who might take you by the hand & ask,
what took you so long?
the important thing about seven is luck.
not luck in the cosmic sense
but in the little quotidian way you have it
this afternoon, out your apartment window,
which is framing a length of clothesline in the sun
& a single cotton shirt hanging down,
filling with air & light, contracting its fibers
& waiting for a body to fill it again
kevin varrone
[ 120 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about eight
is that it’s a boardwalk ride, a loop
variation, time
& time again
& the important thing about eight
is that it’s the everything
of nothingness, of always, of never again
kevin varrone
[ 121 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about nine
is that it differs from six
like siblings, quotation marks, bodies of water.
the important thing about nine is the sea. nine
is the sea in our system: put it to your ear.
not so with six & the important thing about nine
is that, like the sea, it holds no answers, no meaning,
but people are drawn to it, inexplicably,
& in any given town on the coast
you will find the townspeople, nearly all of them,
like nines, walking toward the water
kevin varrone
[ 122 ]
the equalizer
second series
the important thing about ten is loneliness,
the depth of loneliness
known only to those who have found each other
in the wee hours of a neighborhood bar
or as widow & widower
in the years after the love of their lives.
the important thing about ten
is that one is a person & the other a portal.
they pass through one another
& like sadness & joy
can be added together
without ever increasing the sum
kevin varrone
[ 123 ]
the equalizer
second series
These of living emanate a formidable light,
Which is equal to death, and when used
Gives increase eternally.
Kenneth Patchen
[ 124 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.7
paul ebenkamp
[ 126 ] Four Colors for the Based God
[ 125 ]
the equalizer
second series
four colors for the based god
LONG LIFE SLOW
GROWTH AND PERFECT
COURAGE
GIVE ME THAT LOOK
I’M CALLING
ALL THE WAY FROM
THE END OF THE
SIDEWALK LIKE IT
WASN’T ONLY
YESTERDAY AT ALL
PAST A BUSYARD
INTO NOISE SHOWS
SO STILL IT
IS OUTSIDE ALL THIS
TALK OF HOW MY
WRITING WILL HAVE
CHANGED BY EITHER
EAR’S RINGING’S END
LOST IN THE MOVES
DAILY FLUIDS
FUSED IN THE SYLLABLETHINNESS OF PASSING
AVALANCHES NOT A
NEW IDEA UNDER
QUOTIENTS WRECKED
AGAINST IT
paul ebenkamp
[ 126 ]
paulebenkamp @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
EXPELLED INTO
PURPOSIVENESS VS.
MUST I BE SO FUCKED
UP ALL THE TIME
BUT WHAT IF
NOTHING FLOATS UNTIL
APOTHEOSIS ANYWAY
SO ONE’S BAD
EYE’S OLD GLEAM
GOES
BLINK AND IT
CUTS TO UNRELATED
LAST WORDS IN THEIR
REGALIA OF PUFFY
ENUNCIATION
IN FOREGROUNDS
BEYOND AMBIENCE
WHEREAS RHYTHM
BECKONS NO ONE IN
PARTICULAR TO SPELL
THE SAME SOUNDS
FURTHER WAYS AND
AFTER AN ENTIRE
YOUNG ADULTHOOD
OF THIS THE COURSE
OF CORRUPTION IS
PERFECTED
paul ebenkamp
[ 127 ]
the equalizer
second series
UNLIKE DRUNK
NEIGHBORS WHO
JUST DO IT FOR YOUR
AMUSEMENT WITH
APLOMB NOT SOME
DUMB WRONG WAY
TO WRITE THINGS
REVOLUTION
MADE GROWN WOMEN
AND MEN OUT OF
MY FRIENDS BEYOND
THOUGHT’S LOSSES
MINCING CATASTROPHIC
VOYAGER TWO
HAS LEFT THE SOLAR
SYSTEM
LET’S ONLY
CALL A BODY WHAT’S
LEFT OF IT
AND IN ITS DARK
I FIND A MILLION-LEAVED
OAK TREE COASTING
LOW SO FAR INTO THE DARK
THAT MY EYES DON’T
GET IT UNTIL THEY REALIZE
IT’S THE TREE
THAT’S THE DARK
paul ebenkamp
[ 128 ]
the equalizer
second series
AT HEART TOOK UP
IN LOGIC BLANKING
THINKFULLY OUT
AT PRAIRIE LIGHTS
IT’S A SEALED KNOT
BESIDE THE POINT
WHOSE TYING’S
INTERRUPTED BETWEEN
FIGURES IN EXTREMIS
AND A WORD I’VE NEVER
USED BEFORE IS UP
AGAINST THE SEVERAL
MILLION LIDS ON CANS
OF FACTORY-SLICED
FRUITS AND VEGETABLES
DISCARDED THIS BUSINESS
DAY BY BASICALLY
PERFECT PEOPLE WHO’VE
LOST TRACK OF HEART
RATES OR WHO GOT
WHICH INCH OF TURF BOUGHT
BEFORE THE LAST CORD
TANGLED AROUND THE LAST
PHONE CALL CAME
ALIVE AND ATE
ITSELF I’M JUST
GOING UP THE LIST
HERE A HEDGE AGAINST
AUDIENCE REQUESTS OR
MORE ORDERS COME
DOWN FROM CORPORATE
paul ebenkamp
[ 129 ]
the equalizer
second series
SYMPATHY FOR
NOT HAVING A CLUE
WHICH SCORCHED EDGE
OF THE WORKFORCE
IS GOING TO GO FIRST
AND JUST CARRYING
OFF YOUR PLANS FROM
IT PULLING THEM OUT
OF THE GROUND AS
TRAFFIC FLUTTERS
LIGHTLY NEAR THE
BRAIN-ERASING CLIMAX
OF YET ANOTHER
YEARLONG WEBINAR
AS SEATED SELVES
DREAM IDEAS UP
AGAINST THE STANDING
IF EVER IT CROSSED
THEIR DESKS
AW SHIT YOU CAUGHT
ME BOSS I’M ONLY HOLDING
DOWN THIS JOB BY DOING
WEIRD THINGS LIKE KEEPING
UP WITH THE DAILY WEATHER
OF THE CITY I JUST MOVED
AWAY FOREVER FROM
INDOOR VANITIES
UPTIGHT AND COCKEYED
STARING INTO DOORFRAMES
LIKE THEY WERE HOUSEFIRES
paul ebenkamp
[ 130 ]
the equalizer
second series
SAY WHAT HAPPENS
HAPPENS SO THAT WE CAN
IMAGINE WHAT IT WAS
FORESTED WITH
PINE AND ASPEN ON THE
GLIDING YEARS HENCE
FORGETFULNESS
WROTE IT
HOLDING THE
PHONE UNDER
A CORE-SAMPLE RAIN
AS YOUR AVERAGE
WAVE TAKES VAGUELY
THE SAME TACK AS THE
ONE BEFORE IT
AS REMAINS SHOOT
VIVACIOUSLY FROM ROOTS
AS ERRORS PASS
THIS WORLD IS PITCH
MADE FLESH IT WILL
NEVER EXCLUDE US
paul ebenkamp
[ 131 ]
the equalizer
second series
AWAITING COPIES
FOR OUR RECORDS SET
FACE OUT AND BLISTERED
WITH ATTRIBUTES
FOR LIFE IS NOT
EXAMPLES
SO AFTER MANY
PREFACES WE’RE
DRUGGED IN WELCOME
BY A SLACKENING
SYNC BETWEEN AUDIO
AND VISUAL TRACKS
IN AIDED TALKS
THROUGH MINOR
LISTENING SKILLS
I CAN’T STRESS
ENOUGH
ABSOLUTION
DOESN’T MEAN THE
MUDDLEHEADEDNESS
GOES POOF OR THAT TIME
SUDDENLY WINDS UP
AT 100% WITH ONLY
THE MOST SUPPORTIVE
RESIDUE TARRYING
BEHIND
paul ebenkamp
[ 132 ]
the equalizer
second series
I SUFFER FROM
THE PROBABLY COMMON
DELUSION THAT I SUFFER
FROM REALLY UNIQUE
DELUSIONS
LIKE HOW I JUST
KNOW WE’LL BE SHOWERED
WITH SAVINGS IF EVER
AN INSTRUMENTAL
BREAK IN THE CLOUDS
PERMITS
I’LL BE THIS
CLOSE TO STAYING
THE SAME THEN
BUT HEARING
THE ANSWER COME
FROM THE WELL OF
OBLIVION WAS SO MUCH
MORE DEGRADING THAN
THE ACT OF POSING
THE QUESTION THAT WE
UNFOLDED OUR ORGANS
AND FLED BEFORE IT
ENDED CATCHING JUST
THE MENISCUS
AN OUTCROP OF
BY-WEEKS IN SUNNY
PEREGRINATION
paul ebenkamp
[ 133 ]
the equalizer
second series
MANY LETTERS
MANY ARTICLES
SMUDGING OILS
AND PIGMENTS
A TOUCH GRACES
MUSIC’S MEMBRANE
A PITCHED PAUSE
WE’D SLEEP LATER
THAN GOD IN
I’LL BE THIS CLOSE
TO STAYING THE SAME
THEN THOUGHT THE
PHILOSOPHICALLY LONG
ODDS ON REBIRTH IN
VERSE OR CERTAIN
CURTAINS IN VERSE
OH SING TO ME
SIGHTS UNTRAINED
FOR I HAVE NO IDEA
TANK DROSS TO
SIEVE THROUGH MY
CHOOSINESS
paul ebenkamp
[ 134 ]
the equalizer
second series
IT’S MAY AND I
AM ELSEWHERE LOOKING
LONG AT THE SALTCLOTTED WATER FALLING
THINKINGLY TOWARDS
THE DEEPEST SURFACE
HIGH AS FUCK AND TOTALLY
DEVOTED FOR THE
MOMENT TO THIS
IMAGE OF SALT IN WATER
I SAT CAKED IN
GAZES HEADED FOR
AND IN IT
AS IN HOW THE
DRIVING OF A NAIL INTO
WOOD IS BOTH THE BUILDING
OF THE HOUSE AND THE
HOUSE ITSELF
YET DEPENDING AS
EXPENSIVELY AS EVER
FROM MY OWN PROOFS OF
PURCHASE HAVING HAD IT
WITH LYRIC’S GORGEOUS
IFFY-NESS
AS TRUCULENT
AND UNRELIABLE AS
I WAS AS A KID
paul ebenkamp
[ 135 ]
the equalizer
second series
HENCE ALL THE
SOLO PROJECTS
THOUGH SLOWLY
THEY TOO LEAVE ME
COWERING IN THE FACE
OF THE MOST TOTALLY
UPLIFTING WORLD MUSIC
COMPILATION ALL HITS
SUNG BY THE ORIGINAL
ARTISTS
GIVING ME THAT
LOOK THAT SAYS “THIS
IS STILL THE POEM?”
FOUR COLORS
DEVOUR THE UNBODIED
MODEL DAWNING
METHODICALLY
WE SEE IT SEE
ITS SCENES TO FLAMES
SO THAT SUN
DESCENDS ON THEM
YESTERDAY AT CRISSY
FIELD IN THE OPEN WIND
WITH ANIMALS AND FRIENDS
THEN THE FRETTED DRONE
OF WINTER AT THE PACE
OF GROWN SKIN
paul ebenkamp
[ 136 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE WORLD BELIEVES
WHAT I TELL IT THE EARTH
AND SEAS NOT SO MUCH
HUH WELL
DON’T WE ALL JUST
WANNA SLOUCH INTO
CIRCUMFERENCE WITH SOCKS
ON SCOOTING ACROSS
ART’S CARPET
TO TURN THE FLOOR
TO LAVA
AND SLEEP THE SLEEP
OF THE TINCTURELESS
AND WAKE UP READY
TO TAKE THE NAMES
AWAY FROM THINGS?
EVERY CRAZY-MAKING
GAME MADE OF EQUAL PARTS
STRATEGY AND BLIND CHANCE
MUST HAVE ITS OWN WORKING
DEFINITION OF ACCURACY
I WAS TOLD BY SINGING
WHAT THE SONG’S CALLED
AND IT’S “ACCURACY”
paul ebenkamp
[ 137 ]
the equalizer
second series
MAY CHANGES OF HEART
SPILL EVERYWHERE
AND GREENS PILE HIGH
IN THE COOKWARE
FIND THE HANDLE
ON THE BRIEFCASE
FOR SOME REAL
FIELD EXPERIENCE
“NO SECRESY IN ART”
—WILLIAM BLAKE
*
ACCURACY
paul ebenkamp
Wake and repeat.
Every day I’m asleep.
[ 138 ]
the equalizer
second series
Where letters are
paul ebenkamp
to put an end
to what makes a mark,
many exceptions
steady together
steps away, addressing –
probably still out there;
one learns to rake
the nerves away
along drones of décor,
swarm of overtone
waving its receipt around;
calls flood the floor . . .
[ 139 ]
the equalizer
paul ebenkamp
second series
Jammed into
such rinds,
who wouldn’t like
to pry into
that bit of
whatever’s left blank,
something for endeavor
to detach to,
knowing how time grows
at both ends,
how awe can’t guide it out.
A shame, we say –
Nothing stands in my way
except this nothing
standing in my way!
[ 140 ]
the equalizer
second series
Meanwhile hairs fall;
a body sends a ball
down a hill;
those ads in the stations,
they know we’re not home;
that steel never sees
the light of day
bruised through it,
a clarifying agent wherein air –
much of which is lust
for loss or some
such worseness –
cups the window,
cozens the door . . .
paul ebenkamp
Lately I’ve been
busy, affixing to
our margin this
[ 141 ]
the equalizer
paul ebenkamp
second series
hardly-ochre glow
of trees at streetside
and downplaying how
miscast I am in my own
audience, a tic of drag-
and-drop automatism;
having spent the last
few days in the present’s
grainy din-silence –
no explanations,
tons of rain, a cold
dose of chlorophyll
in flashes of lavender
yawning in a city park
whose lights are off
from budget cuts
ten miles from this spot –
I’m all back and forth
and calling systolic
[ 142 ]
the equalizer
paul ebenkamp
second series
how far clouds grow,
how fast the dead go,
as do the living
in their elemental
noons whose hurt
never grudged
an object its rust.
So a hand is stared at,
and the stare is simply
dying for a testcard,
screensaver, dial tone,
countdown to stall
at “1” or valet to race
up to it with tickets!, or
more tickets, or additional
ticketing logistics . . .
[ 143 ]
the equalizer
second series
Don’t waste away
on surfaces and
their depths, it said—
Of course it’s forever;
how else would it end?
There’s a call being made
over cold clouded water –
static lashed to its masts,
a sky’s blunt litany
clotting the void so as
to fill pages and later
empty them,
a hole through the theme –
paul ebenkamp
[ 144 ]
the equalizer
paul ebenkamp
second series
All the bells turn around.
It takes a lifetime
to clear a name.
– blind loss and weird
fury after which our
gorges rose not waiting
for anything, no
shadow down the frame;
what I meant was
insufficient, but by what?
Bikes bunching up along
the doggy promenade;
two clocks two minutes
off in the same room;
[ 145 ]
the equalizer
second series
reading is a fact
of clean glasses;
I rise as a river does
when crossed? Accuracy
doesn’t bludgeon me,
a shivering interval.
I know the smell
of rain’s name:
Petrichor: petra, stone
+ ichor, the glassy stuff
that runs in Greek
gods’ veins.
Another week then.
No one seats us.
paul ebenkamp
[ 146 ]
the equalizer
second series
I never read the essay
but kept it in piles
nonetheless, thinking
there’ll be chances
down the road, thinking there’s
time in the world…
paul ebenkamp
But time is between blood
types at the moment.
Appendages are enraged:
this notch in the saw,
this slant in the hand,
some slim inch of surface
not very well buried
(having never
been better),
blank as tracing
paper stacked
[ 147 ]
the equalizer
paul ebenkamp
second series
opaque and hardly worth
its weight in second
hands – dotting
a prior horizon –
Induce and yield.
I’m trying!
For what is a thread
intended?
[ 148 ]
the equalizer
paul ebenkamp
second series
A light dies
so I buy it, as it strays
from whatever
else of itself’s left;
a border’s
broader than
its core;
my shadow
works hard, I’m alive
as an Earth’s worth
tempts the calendrical distance;
[ 149 ]
the equalizer
second series
stretched too thick,
waking’s vacancies
recede intact,
remote but fiercer for it.
*
OUT OF SHAPE
AND INTO POSITION WHAT
HAVEN’T WE LEARNED
THE POEM FAR
FROM BEING FOUND
APPEARS THERE NEARLY
NOT MISSING
IN AN UNIMAGINED
NOON THE DREAM TAKES
ITS BREAKS FROM US
TO LET A STONE PASS
SO IF THE STITCH
THAT SEPARATES TWO
DOTS GROWS DO THE
DOTS GROW
paul ebenkamp
[ 150 ]
the equalizer
second series
IS THAT WHAT’S
BETWEEN ME IN THIS
LUMBERED SUNLIGHT
HALF CUT OUT OF
ITSELF HALF HOLLOW
AS A CROSS HALF BACKGROUND WALL BAUBLES
HALF LEFT ALONE IN A
PLACE OF NEED WITH
ITS LITTLE CAP OFF
WEARILY MY
DEAREST THIS SPOKE
AT YOUR TIGHTROPE’S LIP
IT’S CRUEL AT
THE WINDOWSILL AND
DRENCHING EVERYWHERE
ELSE SO THE SLEEPER
KEEPS GETTING NOT
CAUGHT UP WITH THEIR
INVENTORY
LET’S SEE
THERE’S DOWN TIME
AND BUSY TIME AND
THAT’S ALL THERE IS
paul ebenkamp
[ 151 ]
the equalizer
second series
IN A FRETWORK OF
CONVINCEDNESS RODE
OUR REPUTATIONS LIKE
A NATION-WAVE UP TO
THE WRONG HOUSE AND
OUT WITH THE RECTIFYING
ROLODEX OF “IT’S NOT
LIKE OTHER PEOPLE
EXIST JUST IN CASE
OF EMERGENCIES”
AND JOKES FOR ALL
OCCASIONS EXCEPT
THIS ONE
A LOT OF SMALLISH
EARMARKS REALLY GUMMED
IT UP AND WE ARE OUT OF
HERE FOR LONG-PLOTTED
HOLIDAYS GETTING SPENT
ON DOCKS OR BEDS OF
PICKUPS AND NOT MISSING
OUT ON WHAT LIFE HAS TO
AND IN FACT MUST OFFER
SINCE LAWS WERE PASSED
IN OUR FAVOR TWO
SUNDAYS AGO
AS PEACHY BALLOONS
FELL ABOUT OUR CASTED
BODIES
paul ebenkamp
[ 152 ]
the equalizer
second series
SCREEN TWISTING
IN THE SLEEP SIGNAL
DRIVEN TUNEFUL AS
QUARTER-BIRDSONG
OUT OVER ACREAGE
IN RETURNING AIR
STEEP AS A HILL FULL
OF SOULS WE LEARN
“GEM-TACTICS” VIA GREEN
ASCENSIONS IN COMMON
LEFT OUTSIDE THE ACT OF
HAVING WRITTEN IN AN
OPENING OTHER THAN
THE PRESENT’S DRESSY
INFLECTIONS ANYONE
FEELS WEREN’T HERE
BEFORE OR AT LEAST
NOT IN THIS ORDER’S
WHAT I MEANT WHEN
I GOT TO THE ENDGAME
IT WAS JUST A BUNCH
OF SIDELINES MAKING
IT OFFICIAL ALL ART
IS HELPLESS BEFORE
WISDOM AND LOVE
A TRANCE BETWEEN
EXTRACTS
WHEREAS WE LOOK
OUR WORST REFLECTED
BACK TO US IN MIRRORS
WROTE TOLSTOY IN
WAR AND PEACE
paul ebenkamp
[ 153 ]
the equalizer
second series
WHEREAS A DESIRE
TO APPEAR COMPLICATED
IS AT THE ROOT OF
MOST FORMS OF FATUITY
WROTE HENRY JAMES
IN THE TRAGIC MUSE
OH I FEEL A BLOG
POST COMING ON ON THIS
SIDE OF MY SPINE A BURNT
SHIVER COUGHING DOWN
LUNGS OF ASPHALTED
VITAMIN POWDERS AND
FEELING LIKE A HOT CLOAK
IN A STEAM ROOM AWFUL
IMAGE BUT YOU’VE GOTTA
EMPTY THE BATHS
SOMEHOW AND EXEUNT
THAT HALCYONIC FUNK
LAST PAGE REASONS
ALWAYS WIN
AND YET IF JUST
GIVING UP IS FUCKED
WHO WILL TAKE IT
FROM THE WRONG HANDS
AND JUST LOVE US
ON OUR WRONG FARMS
paul ebenkamp
[ 154 ]
the equalizer
second series
TAKE A HINT FROM
ALIENS WHOSE HEARTS
ARE IN NIRVANA AND DON’T
WANT TO HEAR ABOUT
WEIRD HIRSUTE PLEASURES
SUCH AS OURS
THE SOUND
OF PENS FOUR
FEET DEEP
OF FREEDOM
IN NOISE
AS L’ANGE
PASSE
DON’T MOVE
I USED TO BE
A FIGURINE ON CAKES
paul ebenkamp
[ 155 ]
the equalizer
second series
ENCIRCLED SOUND
AND VISION IN AN AUDILE
FOG STOPS SHORT OF
FLOODING BLEAK STRENGTH
EIGHT CONSONANTS FOR
EVERY VOWEL CLAMORING
OVERHAUL OVERHAUL
OVERHAUL ITS SPLINTERS
FOUNTAINED IN AND OUT
FOR AS LONG AS THE
CITY KEEPS ITS PIPES UP
BUT GLITTER
NEVER DIES KEEP IT
ON YOU DON’T WASH
IT OUT TO SEA
GIVE IT A YEAR
OF WEEKENDS
THE AIR ELSEWHERE
MAYBE HELD TOGETHER
BY A FIR TREE
AT WHICH POINT WE
STOP FOLLOWING THE
SONG PAST ITS INNER-TREK
ELEMENT SINCE THE REST
JUST SEEMS LIKE WHAT
LITTLE BOUTIQUE RECORD
LABELS DO
paul ebenkamp
[ 156 ]
the equalizer
second series
SOUPING UP AN
ALBUM THAT WAS MADE
IN THE CD ERA AND WAS
75 MINUTES LONG AND
NOW THEY CUT IT HALF
AN HOUR SO AS TO SELL
THE THING ON VINYL
AND IF IT’S NOT THAT THEN
IT’S DOUBLEWEIGHT TRIPLE
VINYL IN AN EIGHT-PANELLED
SILKSCREENED CARDSTOCK
GATEFOLD SLEEVE COME
ON IT WAS REMASTERED
FROM CD ANYWAYS AND
STILL I BUY IT
A SLAVE TO TASTE
THE DAY ARRANGES
THINGS SO THAT ONE
CAN JUST UNHUNCH
AND WATCH WHAT’S
COVETED FLOAT AWAY
paul ebenkamp
BLANKING THINKFULLY
[ 157 ]
the equalizer
second series
SHOOK OFF GOOD
LEADS ON THE CASE THAT
MADE MY NAME A QUICK
SOLDER AND CAUSALITY’S
BACK FROM A LONG DATA
STORAGE CONFERENCE
WHOSE TAKEAWAY IS “BLINK
AND YOU’RE DEAD” AGAINST
A SCRIM OF FOREIGN
SKIES IN THEIR TYPICAL
DISTANCES PLANNING
URBAN PLANS AMIDST
VAST ZOMBIFICATION
MUST BE THE
HUMIDITY SINKING IN
SUBJECT MATTER
SUCKED BACK TO SOURCE
CODE AT BEHESTS
OF DESCRIPTION’S
LINEAGES ACTING LIKE
EVERY LAST ITALICIZED
SCRAP OF APPROACHING
REALITY’S “THE ONE
THAT GOT AWAY”
paul ebenkamp
[ 158 ]
the equalizer
second series
CALL BACK BEFORE
NOON CALL BACK AFTER
NOON LOOKING FORWARD
TO THE RETURN PLUNGE
THROUGH AURAS OF THE
ACADEMY’S REAM SLUDGE
CLOTTED ARTWORKS
IN THE FORM OF SOME
SORT OF GET-TOGETHER
AFTER THE GALLERY THING
TO WONDER WHAT IT IS
AND I DO WONDER
WHAT IT IS ABOUT ME THAT
KEEPS PAIN THE SAME
THING EVEN AS OTHER
PAIN TAKES ITS PLACE
IT’S THE DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN STOP AND END
A TOKEN ORDER
PLACED JUST TO SHOW
IT CAN BE DONE
THERE IT SITS
SOAKING ITS OWN VOID UP
HOPE’S GHOSTS
IN ROUNDABOUT
paul ebenkamp
[ 159 ]
the equalizer
second series
HARD TO MAKE ALL
THE EDGES MEET
AND STILL KEEP
THINGS READABLE LOL
HENCE THE SELF-
RELEASED THING CUT FROM
EXQUISITUDES OF PRAXIS
IN LIEU OF OLD-TIMEY REAL
WORLD EXPERIENCE
DURING WHICH I SAT
IN MEDITATION LAST
NIGHT AND HEARD
A GREAT RACKET MOVE
THROUGH THE STREETS
AND THE CAVES
AND THE WITHERING
CRITIQUE I WAS BEING
SUBJECTED TO
ENTIRE BAD TRIPS
ABOUT THE POINT I MEANT
TO WANT TO MAKE
THE NOTION THAT
REALITY IS NOT LIMITED
TO WHAT’S REAL CREATES
AN INTERSTICE WHEREIN
THE NOTION OF TRUTH
FINDS SHRILL BLOOM
paul ebenkamp
[ 160 ]
the equalizer
second series
AND SURE
ENOUGH IT CAME
OR DIDN’T REALLY
AND SURE
ENOUGH IT WENT
THOUGH IT NEVER
DID THAT EITHER
AND THE THING I’D
BE DOING ON A FOLLOWING
DAY THAT RESEMBLES
THIS ONE EXACTLY DOWN
TO A FAINT HALTING AND
REFRACTED ATTITUDE
TOWARDS METHOD HAS
BEEN MOVED TO REGENESIS
BY THE FOUR-DIMENSIONAL
MACHINE DIN THAT
FLOATED LIKE A HORIZONBROADENING BOREDOM
ACROSS THIS FILM OF
SPIRIT I’LL CALL DEPTH’S
SURFACE DEPTH’S
SURFACE
FELT A PANG OF
OLD SURGERY IN
THE NEW MOVES
paul ebenkamp
[ 161 ]
the equalizer
second series
YOU TASTE THOSE
STAPLES ROAMING THE
VERY MUSCLE YOU HEARD
THIS WITH TO TURN
AROUND AND NOT
ASSUME THE WORST
YOU THINK OF
THE LAST THING THAT
COMES TO MIND
A CARDINAL
BEAMS THROUGH HEAT
AS BODY LIES ACROSS
THE PROPER LABORATORY
BOOTH AMONG MUSICIANS
AND THE FIRST DAY OF
DREAM SCHOOL
SHADE BLEACHED
AWAY
THEN THE MOON IS
ELSEWHERE BOUNCING
OFF OF SOMEONE ELSE’S
SUN
PRESENT PAST
FUTURE BROUGHT TO
MIND BY A SUDDEN
UNCTUOUS BURST OF
TWENTY SIX LETTERS
paul ebenkamp
[ 162 ]
the equalizer
second series
I DREW UP THESE
PLANS WITH THE SHORT
ENDS OF STRAWS
I EXISTED MY
WAY THROUGH THIS LIFE
ON NOTHING BUT
PROPORTIONS
OH TIME ME FOR
I KNOW NOT HOW
LONG I’M SUPPOSED
TO HAVE STOOD AROUND
IN GLOAMING’S PICKY
DARKNESS
FIRES FIRST
SPIRES LATER
COME ON WE’RE ALL
SCIENCE MAJORS HERE
THERE’S SPECTRA
ENOUGH FOR US YET
paul ebenkamp
[ 163 ]
the equalizer
second series
CUTTING UP THE
MODERN WORLD’S SURFEIT
OF COVER ART AND
ROUTINIZING LAST THINGS
ACROSS ENTIRE GREATER
METRO AREAS
SO INTO RHYTHM
ONE’S KNOW-HOW
IS COAXED
BUT STILL I MOSTLY
LOUNGE AROUND AT
HOME SIPPING THE CHALICE
OF THE LAST PLAIN PHRASE
KNOWN TO HUMANKIND
TRYING SOFT TO
FIND OUT WHO KNOWS
WHAT AND WHO’S
UNDRUNK ENOUGH
TO SAY SO
DOOM IS NOT THE
ONLY THING I’VE NEVER
SEEN THAT WE’VE GOT
TO CHOMP ABOUT
HAVING SET FOOT
NEXT TO NOTHING
IN A SHARK TANK
paul ebenkamp
[ 164 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE GOOD
BOOK IN HAND
AS CONSCIOUSNESS
SUDDENLY DOESN’T QUIT
STOP ME IF
YOU’VE HEARD THIS
ONCE TOO SELDOM
WHEN SEVERING
IS THOUGHT THOUGHT IS
NOT SEVERED
CAT SPOOKED BY
DEMON SPRINKLERS
AT DAYBREAK THEN BACK
TO THE PERCH
A THOUGHT IS NOT
THINKING THINKING IS
NOT THOUGHT AND WHILE
I’M DISORDERED TIME FILES
DOWN THE NIB
AND SURE IT HURTS
TO HEAR IT TOLD IN A
CERTAIN WAY LADEN WITH
TRICKIEST SYMPATHIES
paul ebenkamp
[ 165 ]
the equalizer
second series
BUT MIND FLIES AND
I’M OFF TO THE DANCE
A SCENE OF DAWN
THICKENING IN LINKED
COLLECTIONS GLIMPSED
THROUGH THE EXPIRATION
OF MY MEMBERSHIPS
BETWEEN COMPETING
WEED DISPENSARIES AND
PUBLIC-SPEAKING CLINICS
THAT CLAP AT WHAT
LEADERS IN THE FIELD
CALL COHERENCE
BUT I AM FOR MORE’S
VIOLET FRINGE
IF A MIND COULD JUST
TURN LIKE A WRIST
LUSTFUL AT WEEK’S
END ONLY TO BE SHOWN
AROUND THESE HEAPS OF
NIFTY TRINKETS LEFT
ON THE CURB BY SOME
REAL GOOD PEOPLE
paul ebenkamp
[ 166 ]
the equalizer
second series
YAWNING WITH
NERVES IN THE AETHER
OF A FOURTH EDITION
WELDED TO LEDGES
AND SPLASHING
ORDERS AT DUST
THOUGH WE’VE
ONLY TO BE THE SOLES OF
OUR FEET ACROSS FRIGID
COALS STREWN IN THE
SHADOW OF ANOTHER
TIME ZONE BY THE LIGHTS
OF BRAINDEADLY DIPS
AND SPIKES MARKING US
AS UNREAD IN ABEYANCE
ADVANCED COACHING
NOTIONS CROWD THE
PANEL PRESENTATION
WHY CAN’T WE ALL
JUST GET IT WRONG
PLAINLY YOUR
CHAFF GOT THRESHED
BY THE HASSLE OF HANDLETTERING WITH NOTHING
BUT A CAT’S TONGUE
THIS IS DUMB
DUDE
paul ebenkamp
[ 167 ]
the equalizer
second series
BUT YOU STOOD
AS AN UNDERSTOOD
DUDE WOULD AT GATED
PARKS IN THE GRIP OF
ADMISSION COSTS
UNLIKE A LYRIC
SPEAKER WHO IS READY
TO DIE
CROSSED OUT
AND CROSSED OUT
UNTIL IT’S GLISSANDO
THE BLACKBOARD
CUTS ALONG THE
WHITEBOARD CLOTS
BY RAIN’S HAND
MAY ALL RAINGEAR
BE DESTROYED
TIMBRE AND
GRAIN SKY GONE
WHAT GRAYEST
BLUE THERE IS
OR ISN’T OR IS
OR ISN’T
paul ebenkamp
[ 168 ]
the equalizer
second series
NOW IS NOT
JUST THE TIME
SOUNDS OUT
THE HOURS
TO SWELTER IN
HISS NO MORE
paul ebenkamp
[ 169 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.8
eric sneathen
[ 171 ] Room 107
michelle dove
[ 172 ] from Alt Vices
anselm berrigan
layne ransom
[ 173 ] Pregrets
[ 174 ] Question About Shoes
michelle dove
patrick whitfill
[ 176 ] Curiosity (IX)
junior clemons
michelle dove
jennifer l . knox
amanda montei
randall horton
[ 181 ] The Happy Fat House
[ 182 ] Dear Jon,
[ 184 ] On the A to Staten Island (Courtesy of the
Rapid Transit Construction Company)
michelle dove
tyrone williams
[ 186 ] Pink House
paul killebrew
carly eichhorn
[ 188 ] Social Marinade
jeffrey jullich
[ 189 ] Fashion Plate
michelle dove
amy lawless
natalie eilbert
víctor valera mora
nada gordon
cm burroughs
[ 192 ] A Hole and Two Legs
[ 193 ] Si Ella Sueña
[ 195 ] Cool Torque
[ 196 ] Hysteria Was Once Thought to Be a
Woman’s Disease1
[ 170 ]
the equalizer
second series
room
107
a scent of cherries invades the room
the lovers’ tokens & cherries
a print of pinstripes piles
heat finishes
change abandoned or carefully
stacked into towers
how it happens here & now
then how differently it is
somewhere else too
how you rummage through me
wetly as i puzzle through it
our frayed cuticles feathered
the capital where i strip
tufts of lavender
exchange coins for goods
raising hell with good little girls
all over town
eric sneathen
[ 171 ]
the equalizer
second series
from alt vices
*
If we do not fall in love when we are young, will we
misidentify heartbreak when we are old? Mute swans
have been observed wanting life both ways. If the
supreme unnatural liaise is marriage, is the gravest
natural division divorce? In the twenty-first century it
is no longer important what our relations make of our
love lives, but with the advent of planes and cell phones
and Skype the family plantation remains intact.
michelle dove
[ 172 ]
dovewrenn @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
pregrets
pine tree hanging out of an auctioneer’s
ear canal of choice, umpire purloined to
bat shard nearby suspended, real red
feeling free floating circles warily misplaced
depth, this is this is, quarter-finaling, blending
inward, you’ll never stop seeing everything
we’ve learned making these tires, every box
shoved into the violence necessary to put
hands to material, Tanaka tee eating sweet
meats on tv, will the wind, under contract
ever buster on twitter, wants more follows
says another little boxy voice, and that’s your
problem right there, reading voices into
any thing that’s got a little language, cheese
is on the house, literally, the part where you
tell me what time it is is the part you’re bad
at, time gets high and pulls together a summer
section of the brooklyn rail, after sitting in the
pre-jury dump a little longer, for the festering
helmet of lamp doom playing at systems was
obvious, that’s what the liver-spotted owl
palette said, of course it never had children
anselm berrigan
[ 173 ]
the equalizer
second series
question about shoes
How am I always barging in on
the moment when a horse discovers
its telltale limp above the city a feathery
woman scuffs her feet on the dead
television sky empty boats idle just beyond
the harbor around a cartoonish buoy
dotted with uncomfortable rust oh
god when will I stop trying
to get all deep like the Atlantic
with more gummy bloated bodies
picked at by fish whose names
suggest they live in government
subsidized housing the biblical god
has a question about shoes and I
have a question about whose feet
are these carrying my skin around
like a funeral for a once beloved
dictator now pumped with goldish
liquid for the world’s dingiest afterlife
layne ransom
[ 174 ]
layne.ransom @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
from alt vices
*
We always think of things we could patent but never
will. In this way some of the best ideas remain private.
Is it laziness not to undertake what seems unattainable?
Each generation supports less practical lifestyles, and
technology may not relent until privacy is a thing of the
past. Do we more seek community when we make art or
do we more seek clarity? Is art advice? As the volume of
potential influences increases, the paths to knowledge
diversify indefinitely. The tardiness of the canon is one
reminder that we will never outlive the past.
michelle dove
[ 175 ]
the equalizer
second series
curiosity (ix)
Regards to everyone. – Romanian Greeting
I never have learned how to draw. I consider
this a desperate kind of failure, like walking
into the same wall for an entire afternoon,
wishing it would turn into a door by the sheer
force of my dumb will. Everyone should have
a second gift. My friend in Lubbock writes
poems about how hard it is to finish writing
a poem because he can’t stop thinking about
drawing the picture of the poem that he has
already written. He has amazing hair. His
hair does damage. His hair surfs across his
head and doesn’t wave. Everyone should have
a head of hair that doesn’t wave to anyone
except for the person they want to fall in love
with that night. And every night. Listen to me:
there’s a chance that, if no one thinks about
you, then you cease to exist. Just like that, you
snap out of life, wake into some static-laden
cesspool of the dross the Big Bang left for us to
dawdle in. This could be the second gift
you never thought to have: to stay aware of
everyone you have ever met, to give them
back to life—consider the poor fedora they wear
in spring; consider the lisp, the tummy
tuck, the profile and uselessness at charades,
the pointedly bad puzzling skills. By this, you
can keep your friends alive, your enemies,
even the complete stranger you didn’t actually
patrick whitfill
[ 176 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
meet on the bus who wanted to know if you
had ever tasted a snowflake gone bad. Today,
on the way to work, I saw a half dozen flat,
black birds pushing their way off of a
telephone line as if anyone still used them,
the lines, I mean, or the birds, to do anything
besides let someone else know that a relative
or a friend has died. By writing that, I’ve kept
alive the birds, the person on the other line
and, maybe, the use of the analog telephone.
I would prefer a better second gift. I would
prefer a first gift I could recognize or barter
with the products of for something tangible:
a nest. A new pen. Whenever the man in his
trimmed raincoat and yellow t-shirt which fell
below his ass, the man who had the kind of
dirty hands only people who live on the street
can reach, when he stepped into the store
where I work and spoke his gibberish, his
rant, I felt no sympathy but remembered him.
Today, I remember him as the man I wanted
to leave my store, that I wished would not
have asked if my phone could reach the other
side, that I had a better response to that
question than what I eventually said, that
there isn’t another side, that this side, here,
completes every side, which I do not believe.
Regarding the possible existence of everyone:
patrick whitfill
[ 177 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
yes, I see that you suffer, and yes, I
understand that I do, too. Right now, I’m
keeping alive an impossible number of things
suffering: flatlined blackbirds, the homeless
man—and all I want to do is disappear into
their memory of me. But I get it. I do. What
that man meant, I mean. That if I’m alive,
then that means someone keeps me this way.
patrick whitfill
[ 178 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Despite our pleasant travels, being cut into pieces or hung from clouds continues to be
uncomfortable. On occasion sentences will start w/ “Well, where I grew up,” this does little else
besides confirm known qualities.
We are marooned and although it looks like nothing it should still be documented.
(Across, May 29 2009, San Francisco)
junior clemons
[ 179 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
from alt vices
*
Self-discoveries earn validation in the presence of others.
But is there harm in keeping our self-discoveries to
ourselves? My greatest flaw isn’t that I seek validation,
but that my self-discovery feels incomplete without an
audience. If communicating matters more than the
communicated, who am I really learning to be precise
for? I respect those who think longer than I do before
speaking, and I have always wanted to sleep with the
man who speaks less, laughs more. My inclination
to communicate my self-discoveries may be the same
as giving my friend a new record or book and naively
expecting they will love it with the same intensity that
I do.
michelle dove
[ 180 ]
the equalizer
second series
the happy fat house
Cookies soothe. You can’t argue with that.
Unclench your jaw after X# years and voilà:
empty. Sharp teeth and sour air. The shriek
you knew was coming shoots up like a duck
so pile in the minivan and go to the store. Go
together. No one’s left alone. No one gets to
be alone. You vs. the cookie is alone as you
get: hiding the cookie in yourself—hiding
yourself in the cookie, sheltering the cookie
from the frenzy over a new glittering trinket
(these craptastic rhinestone manifestations
of desire breed hardcore) hidden in a closet
(dreams try revealing which closet but you’re
deaf to any secrets left worth keeping).
jennifer l . knox
[ 181 ]
jenniferlknox.com
the equalizer
second series
dear jon,
My lipstick
isn’t labor
please no
please know
I know
you know
we’re both
pure symptom
hysterics
writing
our way
out
or in
what we never
have language
to think
trying
for joy
while
trying to die
as fast
as possible
erecting
monuments
as disavowal
of the future
mechanized
care work
dead
mothers
still marching
against
torture
amanda montei
[ 182 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
the little girl
little boy
little before
being named
as such
little one
little body
little baby body
says
“I don’t want
to have a body
a capitalist body
a laboring body
a poet body
I want
to be
a body
I want
to feel”
Isn’t my
disunity
revolutionary
It’s not you, Jon
it’s not
it’s not
it’s everybody
amanda montei
[ 183 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
on the a to staten island
(courtesy of the rapid transit construction company)
(for Ms Brooks)
we
run parallel to the 2 train
until we stop at 22nd
catapulting standing passengers
on the 2 further
into darkness. at a standstill
no one enters our car—
we begin again pass
spray paint hieroglyphics:
hip-hop
over dirty crossties,
through black spat night,
pass striped panels
called blood & bone
we a sliding shoe on the 3rd rail,
600 volts, a whirlwind on metal—
can’t hear hilf mir, aiutatemi, cabhru liom
between the drone:
immigrant-laborer-hopefuls
battling quicksand at canal,
the life lost between
34th & times square,
the dream lost—
clack of rail lodges in place
we continue
at south ferry we exit
board the spirit of america
up the winding staircase
topside, we go
depart angling away from
brooklyn’s bridge we
port to liberty’s statue.
randall horton
[ 184 ]
horton.randall @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
from alt vices
*
Snow days challenge adulthood. Hooky is a game we
gradually forget how to play. The need for progress
intensifies after considering what years we’ve wasted.
If aging is default progression, why don’t we feel
satisfied knowing we’re on our way? Persistence isn’t
something to flaunt. Aren’t we just as enlightened when
formally detached as when fully engaged? Consistency
is admirable but seasonal weather cheats the need.
When we feel happy, change occurs so incrementally we
hardly blink. Temperate falls swell our hearts so large
we live each moment the moment it arrives. What we
carry into winter is not unlike potency.
michelle dove
[ 185 ]
the equalizer
second series
pink house
Savannah, Georgia, summer 2010
Our picture taken
At the Pink House
In a square
Shaped like a Valentine’s
Day after day
We woke up
Biked downTown walked
Lush parks
Flushed with stone
Marble blood
Pink-red
Sunsets we—
Renters—called home
For a few days.
tyrone williams
[ 186 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Have you ever noticed
that a lot of people are away on vacation?
Even this rock is sinking deeper into the sunshine
that’s been the glossary of my personality
unfolding a series of overlaid remarks
meant to distract my listeners
from the crisis of pure lies
that permits me to speak at all.
Speak? That hardly seems feasible
in the crosshairs of a microscope
where each particle of meaning
is far too much as it seems
for anything like sympathy
to cloud the elegant formulas
by which the extent of my love
is divided by its failures.
Profligate failure! Of memory descending,
the shirt I unbutton, religious shadows
latched to morning commuters,
the line you’ve drawn
through the water
that surrounds the humble farmhouse
where Ma and Pa
are moving the dishes to a higher shelf
and praying that this weeklong storm
will cease its endless threat
of making their children
vulnerable to the charms
of mysterious strangers on horseback
murmuring promises of boundless fortunes
to be made by those
willing only to believe.
Everything had been so simple,
their days had been like keys on a piano
all tuned to play the same note.
Why didn’t they just give the man
his seven dollars and leave?
paul killebrew
[ 187 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
social marinade
think of pavlov’s dog
you’re making your kids assholes
your child is a dog
carly eichhorn
[ 188 ]
the equalizer
second series
fashion plate
Swank formal attire accentuates the haircut, shorn at the nape and
provocative, that the customer
imaginatively dredged up from the deepest profundity,
To try it out.
There’s no use denying how butch a leather cowhide jacket expresses
conventional masculinity.
Non-verbally, inside a flannel housecoat, which is not to overlook
A fragrant moisture.
How could such stereotypical studs underestimate the role
the moving pictures play in free-floating after-images
that have been propelling this traffic, which you take into account,
even conjecturally, a very sublimated type
At ease enough to allow thighs spread, like so.
jeffrey jullich
[ 189 ]
jeffreyjullich.com
the equalizer
second series
from alt vices
*
Repetition in art orients, but what of a repetitious
life? We are all irregular when we need to be. Despite
warnings, I once opened my eyes in the ocean. Felt a
dead squirrel on my shoulder that the cat felt in her
mouth. I didn’t want to Jello wrestle. She was a stripper
and the shower after was so cold. Vivid is why I did. No,
I’m not chasing something. It’s just a gap I’m putting in
between.
michelle dove
[ 190 ]
the equalizer
second series
Two deer made out. One deer touched his hand tenderly to the other deer’s ear such that she
felt something unexpected in her chest, something sweet. He delicately touched the edge of her
ear–not like he was trying to take something away from her, but like he truly wanted to know
something that the sense of hearing cannot convey. This moment played over and over in her
mind after the two parted ways. She almost missed her flight. My ear is a small thing that
hears the world. And my brain is a thing that processes violence.
amy lawless
[ 191 ]
the equalizer
second series
a hole and two legs
Hello fulcrum of don’t you dare. I’ve nursed a beautiful disgrace
on my pantylines, thrown them over to dry like a deer in its course
toward venison, like an anti-abortion ad. Did I have brothers still
when I found Walter’s two gutted deers, when the deixis of cavity
opened and exposed the ribcage walls, the empty space where
bodily purpose was dug out for bodily purpose. Walter who spied
me in the backyard and Walter who walked with incomprehensible
slowness toward the deer and Walter who pushed his hand through
the bloody cunt from inside the animal and Walter who swung
the carcass from his rape momentum. It hurt my baby daughter cunt.
When my hymen finally broke in a Pontiac I washed my blood
in the snow, I cupped the snow to my cunt like a Noxema girl.
My brother if I had one wore a shirt that said Never trust anything
that bleeds for five days and doesn’t die. I was anything, I would die.
My hymen blood was it a starry nectar cradled in my sour cavity
like a child-star’s future sex tape, did the snow accept this sacrifice
as anything but more warm liquid dooming it away.
My college boyfriend thought the stains on my panties were shit stains.
As if on a dare, I stained his sheets in my sleep a dark brown.
don’t you dare, my hole never said. My hole like the snow
takes anything in but the doom it blooms inside it, my legs
spread wide with bodily purpose, the space there a whisper
leaning over bourbon. Consider what it means to search the bones
in search for a shred of male remains. How’s that for a triggering town.
No one has ever called me a woman, especially now.
Girl, lady, miss, bitch, baby. Let me count the ways to repress me.
natalie eilbert
[ 192 ]
n.d.eilbert @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
si ella sueña
Si ella sueña
con que el poeta regrese a la inocencia
antes debe la tierra saltar la cuerda
Ahora soy el distinto de siempre
El prodigio Valera Mora
codificando incendios bajo la lluvia
Amanecí de bala (1971)
víctor valera mora
[ 193 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
if the earth dreams
If the earth dreams
to return to the innocence of the poet
first it’ll have to jump rope
Now I’m the other as always
The prodigy Valera Mora
who encodes fire in the rain
& Guillermo Parra
víctor valera mora
[ 194 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
cool torque
A tube stain
stopped in the darling—
everyone in fake eyelashes.
Pastel spaghetti
and a kind of human
pinkness.
A maple mint soda
waits to be chosen . . .
fluffing the daze
nada gordon
[ 195 ]
nada@ jps.net
the equalizer
second series
hysteria was once thought to be a woman’s disease1
1
In 1873, the first electromechanical vibrator was used by an asylum in France for the treatment
of [her inability to capture herself; blankness—as not speaking when spoken to; disrepair of
rote beauty; habituation to fainting (—faintness?) Unguarded against pain combined with a
frequent, disturbing desire to be left to herself with a Winchester.]
cm burroughs
[ 196 ]
the equalizer
second series
Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear’d, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair’d in the adamant of Time.
Walt Whitman
[ 197 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.9
anne boyer
[ 199 ] Sonnet from the Archive of Invisible
Fashion Blogs
hunnel tolland
k. silem mohammad
[ 200 ] Hi Father! Art’s Heaven
[ 201 ] WTC, THC, BLT, DVD: Weld, Weld, Weld,
Weld, Weld, Weld (Whhhhhhirrrr)
pattie mccarthy
[ 202 ] margerykempthing (5)
pattie mccarthy
pattie mccarthy
pattie mccarthy
pattie mccarthy
k. silem mohammad
[ 207 ] You, Our, You, Our, You, Our, You, Our,
You, Our, You, Our, You—Oh, Oh, Oh, You
Tune Stuff!
marsha idlewine
anne boyer
[ 208 ] New World Writing
[ 210 ] Nightmare Sonnet
[ 198 ]
the equalizer
second series
sonnet from the archive of invisible fashion blogs
“does this make me look like a witch? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like a victim? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like pere lachaise? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like accident? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like a mother? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like an lcd screen? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like a tiger? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like a handbag? ‘yes’ should I wear it? ‘yes’”
“does this make me look like missy elliott, elizabeth taylor, alice notley,
gwendolyn brooks, bernadette mayer, lorena bobbit, yoko ono,
lucifer, a near death experience, a travesty, maria callas, a rabbit, a person
weeping, the pacific ocean, a shed in the woods, a constellation, a grime
core pageant, a superstar army, fifi abdo, an interior, a method, a street
battle, a surface, a lifespan? ‘yes’ “should I wear it? ‘yes’”
anne boyer
[ 199 ]
anneboyer @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
hi father! art’s heaven
curse i
hollow policy
thy Mississippi shadow
curse ii
sleep as a couple of diamond reflections
on the Holy Spirit
coition
your 132nd Kentucky Derby Good Sport T-shirt
prophecy
in the winter
the rain came as the early part of her Renaissance
valentine
sweet & leer
morning there
geography i
this year two stars red umber blaze Pennsylvania
geography ii
when the world is bulky
& difficult birds perch in the dark
know that I am not
very far away & under the weather
hunnel tolland
[ 200 ]
is in the wind
the equalizer
second series
wtc, thc, blt, dvd:
weld, weld, weld, weld, weld, weld (whhhhhhirrrrr)
Louisiana television: yay!
Connecticut refrigerators: boo!
At night all gray phenomena are gray,
And in the daytime . . . gray. They’re gray then too.
A peanut butter milkshake: double yum!
Anal electrocution: ouch, my butt!
Ivana Trump, beshrew me, here I come:
I’m here to fill this sonnet up with smut.
The Passion of the Batman: whoop-de-do!
The Velveteen Velociraptor: yikes!
It’s life that feels so hellish, not the flu;
It’s Life, not Fiber One, that Mikey likes.
When sloths get bored, we send them somewhere cool,
Where Webster’s wise, where Cosby is the fool.
Sonnet 56 (“Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said”)
k. silem mohammad
[ 201 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
margerykempething
(5)
margery kempe is brought in for questioning
& is arrested & is arrested
& is arrested & it’s a lucky
creature escaped the fire margery
kempe will not explain (you wolf what is that)
will not explain to an unnamed man why
she is crying & she is first questioned
in Latin & then in the steward’s privacy
where she is threatened with rape & prison
margery kempe swears to tell the truth
when this creature remembers her youth she
fixates on her own strange childless body
pattie mccarthy
[ 202 ]
pmccarth@ temple.edu
the equalizer
second series
margerykempething
(6)
you are no good wife poor thing daughterthing
shod & ridden like a pony to the devil
janet horne (one of the worst wifthings) the last
person burnt alive for witchcraft in britain
(her girl also sentenced to the stake escaped)
but janet horne is a generic name
for witches she might as well be nameless
her daughterthing’s son had the same hands & feet
margery kempe brought into their questions
they said they had a tun to burn her in
you
are
no
goodwifeyou test my patience
pattie mccarthy
[ 203 ]
the equalizer
second series
margerykempething
(7)
she needs something to keep winter off her hair
a wifthing par excellence a female patience
muscle is to lift the scapula
when
this creature drinks coffee on the porch
margery kempe gives birth & gives birth & gives
shod & ridden like a pony to the devil
you are no goodwife
poor thing my patience
fixates on her own strange childless body
take it in the barn & sound
like sunday in its doubled movement
the truth margery kempe’s soft unforgiving
girl is sound
(her girl also sentenced to the stake escaped)
pattie mccarthy
[ 204 ]
the equalizer
second series
margerykempething
(8)
you get what you get & you don’t get upset
margery kempe gives birth in a hairshirt
queen victoria in a shift nightdress
gives birth nine times & then her daughterthing
gives birth in same a braid with & against
the wisp patience is not her pigeon
am I going to regret not carrying
an umbrella today philadelphia
she needs something to keep the winter off
her vernacular of little girl hair
you get what you get & you don’t pitch a fit
but a really good saint does nothing &
female similar to male but smaller & duller
& that night the stork brought her a daughter
pattie mccarthy
[ 205 ]
the equalizer
second series
margerykempething
(9)
there were two types of daughterthings the ones
who purposely stepped on ginkgo ovules
& the ones who picked their ways around them
margaret of hennenberg in 1276
gave birth to 365 babies
in bigness all like newbred miceboth
boychiks & daughterthings equally so
you get what you get & you don’t get upset
but 365 does not divide by two
eleven months of the year the ginkgo
is the ideal street tree margery kempe
the strategy is accumulation
& the process has already failed creature
listen a patient braid is not your pigeon
pattie mccarthy
[ 206 ]
the equalizer
second series
you, our, you, our, you, our, you, our, you, our, you, our, you —
oh, oh, oh, you tune stuff!
When dodgy blokes misuse the word ekphrasis
In reference to a yellow velvet shawl,
I go John Quincy Adams on their asses:
I make them quit the Klingon Kingdom Hall.
The copy of The Fountainhead I burned,
The hot dog bun I strove to throw away—
I fell into a swoon when they returned;
I fell in with the ASPCA.
Sir Peter Ustinov reused granola;
Beyoncé dreaded Buster Keaton’s hair.
Rubella’s not as scary as Ebola;
Dimethyl ether’s shittier than air.
I wish you wouldn’t ravish Viv the cop
Or vivisect a dude in Photoshop.
Sonnet 57 (“Being your slave what should I do but tend”)
k. silem mohammad
[ 207 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
new world writing
ill me-me
dissent this year
clear come
crystal castles done
pour away toys
bizarre amen
quiet ducks
mountain merit
sows charming
its tails
central monument
of trout irritation
accept candy
from antique animals
very ocean
peace monster
secret son
of infernal new
because don’t
main audio
long summer
invites me
low night
legendary bird
flame the critics
excite flowers
now there’s passion
spirit of Mal Waldron
marsha idlewine
[ 208 ]
aclu.org
the equalizer
second series
anonymous document
love guards
dance removal
document shreds fate
tenebrous means dark
embarked means tense
band together son
rainbow fatal
engine cynosure
veils arsenal
loves moving
loves loves moving
criminal foal
dare you jump from me
come sun
come autumn
come white
come freeze
marsha idlewine
[ 209 ]
aclu.org
the equalizer
second series
nightmare sonnet
imagery, euphony, parataxis, hypotaxis, charm, transcription,
assemblage, appropriation, virtuosity, sentiment, refrain,
brutality, vision, confession, anger, the aleatory, the elegiac,
the casual, the pornographic, the mimetic, the figure of speech,
instruction, preparation, abjection, the hallucinatory, the sprawling,
the miniscule, the tercet, the canto, the ode, the email,
the eager, the historic, the flattening, the unflattening, the heroic,
riot porn, riot sext, sub-sext, authority, prizes,
the volta, the arch, the vernacular, the memes, the melancholy,
documentarianism, lyricism, recuperation, personal brand,
pop music, delight, transgression, undoing, innocence, evidence,
coherency, care, strategy, theory, evasion, invention, wit,
desire, admission, scorn, iteration, declamation, adoration,
nature, violence, romance, mortality, landlords, work.
anne boyer
[ 210 ]
anneboyer @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.10
adam stutz
guillermo parra
daniella pafunda
[ 212 ] Recital
[ 213 ] Ladies of the Canyon
[ 216 ] I set your copyright page on fire
víctor valera mora
[ 217 ] Maravilloso País en Movimiento
lindsay rose moore
[ 219 ] In the Colon of the Beast
cathy eisenhower
tracey mctague
jess mynes
anselm berrigan
samuel amadon
[ 220 ] from Welcome Back
[ 222 ] untold want
[ 223 ] Fuck Ben Zobrist
[ 224 ] Regrets
eric sneathen
[ 226 ] Room 108
amanda montei
[ 227 ] Dear Jon,
paul vargas
patrick whitfill
meg ronan
[ 228 ] Tattoo You
[ 229 ] Curiosity (XXXIV)
[ 231 ] AMERICAN CRISIS: DO IT YOURSELF
OR DO IT TOGETHER?
evan commander
adam stutz
[ 234 ] Shooting in West Village
[ 235 ] Echoes
junior clemons
michael peters
[ 237 ] Incantation 2: Love, Led By Wandering
Storms of Light
[ 211 ]
the equalizer
second series
recital
Left out after day’s ending:
rusted Radio Flyer
punctured football
toy car w/
cracked pedal
Trembling procession
until dark
until the stones
are laid outIn letters torn
into quarters—
cast out into updrafts—
those battered
scrawls
depend on only so much
sunlight
Lines to strange lips
songs crossing/
left over
adam stutz
[ 212 ]
adamcstutz @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
ladies of the canyon
O the Ladies of the
Canyon—flowers,
children, incense,
music breaks
the hills of the
encapsulated city
—from afar,
the freeways arc
in vineland fixtures—
coffee & tea in the
morning
watching
the minor reaches of
traffic, a boy at
a phonograph—mist
on utopian pulses—
Who are the Ladies
of the Canyon?
What are the Ladies
of the Canyon?
The Ladies
of the Canyon
are those I keep
in the aftermath rock posters
inundated creatures
the lines
bunched
together
—a single
point in the
key variations—
guillermo parra
[ 213 ]
venepoetics.blogspot.com
the equalizer
second series
The Ladies of the Canyon
are John Wieners and
his movie stars
& virgins—an
older allure beside
grim benefits, alone
on a hill behind
stained-glass windows
A hovering of work
is the city at night
whose glow I
attend
In what order do
the Ladies of the
Canyon appear?
I think they draw
themselves over the
lake like apparitions
Where are the Ladies
of the Canyon?
are dead & we like it so—
set to a rotation, only
on vinyl, disabled
blocks of script,
focal points
a source of what
map I darken
guillermo parra
[ 214 ]
the equalizer
second series
They make
dragonflies appear
from the lake,
pretty clouds in the
water when I turn
the page, lines
already imprinted on
the screen across my
face—nervous hands
make the day slower
When I sit to write
they hover
at my shoulders
the little cloud
over the sky mirror
are a spectral branch
the fog risen
notebook currency
A single voice
spirals across
the city superimposed on these
O Ladies of the
Canyon—flowers,
children, incense
guillermo parra
[ 215 ]
the equalizer
second series
i set your copyright page on fire
I set your copyright page on fire. I light it and set it
in my own hand and my own hand burns. I drop it
into my lap and it catches fire again. I drop, I drop
down, there are drops of something sticky on the tiles.
It’s dripping from me, I drain my heart and watch it pool
gambol, run sour into the ash. I take you out
of the library of congress. I take you out of congress
and you come wheeling into perfection with each breath
I force into each word I force each word between my teeth
a mouthful of paper and letters drooling down my chin
I’m sobbing mascara over the paper, new words leaking
into the gut of the book. But there’s nothing new about
[redactions]
the gasoline in which my head held under.
danielle pafunda
[ 216 ]
dpafunda@ uwyo.edu
the equalizer
second series
maravilloso país en movimiento
Maravilloso país en movimiento
donde todo avanza o retrocede,
donde el ayer es un impulso o una despedida.
Quien no te conozca
dirá que eres una imposible querella.
Tantas veces escarnecido
y siempre de pie con esa alegría.
Libre serás.
Si los condenados
no arriban a tus playas
hacia ellos irás como otros días.
Comienzo y creo en ti
maravilloso país en movimiento.
Canción del soldado justo (1961)
víctor valera mora
[ 217 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
marvelous country in motion
Marvelous country in motion
where everything advances and reverses,
where yesterday is an impulse or a farewell.
And whoever doesn’t know you
says you’re an impossible lawsuit.
You are mocked so often
yet your feet are joyful.
You will be free.
If the damned
do not arrive at your shores
you will go to them as other days.
I begin and I believe in you,
marvelous country in motion.
& Guillermo Parra
víctor valera mora
[ 218 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
in the colon of the beast
Everything you touch
becomes Scientologist—
I fucking hate you.
We carried Solomon
all the way to Testament, and
his snarls sound
terribly like human words.
His hat looks like it belongs
on The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
The good news is he learned
to read somewhere
along the way.
He was a totally
sober dungeon sage
with XXX prestige.
The hills are alive
with the sound of screaming nuns,
but in China, dragons are
really nice and
they have little beards
and they show up for parties.
lindsay rose moore
[ 219 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
from welcome back
[Note: Numerals indicate number of breaths the reader should count before continuing the poem]
Welcome back.
1
2
3
4
now buy me a present.
no don’t buy me a present.
I don’t want any present at all.
I didn’t mean that you should buy me this present
or any other type of present.
all the vagaries slide down the hill toward the center—
(what’s for lunch?)
even in my dreams I’m distracted
by dream iPads playing movies
about baby dinosaurs stolen
from experimental swimming pools.
(what can I do?)
cathy eisenhower
[ 220 ]
cathy.eisenhower @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
here’s what I will say
to this one or that one
while there’s anger in the water
poured into the other water
to make some amount of more or less
angry water.
the specific downfall of language related to liquid.
all the vagaries slide down the center
as though drinking a boring self
and pissing a boring self out.
the growling cycle follows into the something something sunset mind.
“I feel honored” to be in a landscape,
to be honored with a landscape named after a word
that I used to love.
cathy eisenhower
[ 221 ]
the equalizer
second series
untold want
defile wingman spoils
with fancy for the sullen
fainting sans couch
& knowing there are exactly
two kinds of thieves
the trick it seems
is to live by wit’s
instinct machine
with weather forecasts
for the birds
by way of stolen stars
& self imposed rune
tracey mctague
[ 222 ]
the equalizer
second series
fuck ben zobrist
for Anselm Berrigan
Look at you with your multiple position
eligibility. Assume some mingling with the
birds in the yard. Wake of lightning.
Most likely to be an undertaker. Dating an airline pilot
to ensure jealousy. So toast. The Mariners
are for real. The dark wood as an
experiment. Your hair is crazy but I dig
the single glove. That facelift
is poison. It should be easier
to name your franchise. Impeccable comic
timing, you hide your pharmaceuticals
well. Now that I’ve seen it all, everything is
a lighter shade of Massachusetts. Buried
alive, halfway between old school
and new pupils. Can we share
this tree? Rocks always soothe my mind. What
she said. We don’t belong
in that novel, the one with the abandoned chicken
farm. Joining the paternity list
for seven days. Waiting for you
at the slumber party. Looks like
rain. Pride tied to a willingness
to go too far. I’m fine
with the goose-pimples being scored as a
sac fly. Is this the tallest tree
you’ve ever been in? Who’s this guy
with all the cats? There’s an art
to this phase, it’s a prologue
to forgetting. The burden of white
noise, it’s a fucking natural history
for the trembling. Prickly feeling
in my legs. Without fail I’ve been thinking
in figures of speech. Change requires a
persistent music.
jess mynes
[ 223 ]
the equalizer
second series
regrets
I told the apparently latent little box I was
slapping myself recursively, long live the down
with, the box frame, the howdy human condition
but I was relaying re to pre to avoid having to
admin it, but I was lying, like now I’m just trying
to remind your yous I can do this, being a thingless
telephat on the hill so as to speak as, give my love
to the air out there, the sets of smacktivated paces
I was ordered to kill a spider yesterday, more
pesticides for me and my roots, I should look up
the origin of out of the blue idiom, but you can
decoratively do it for me, with a sagacious hose
in the alley, an alley priming its pump in another
world, alas, sitting here in cold anonymity, someone
who doesn’t dig me, platonically, walks in werewolf
specific shirt rips, that wall is being red flashlights
called upon by irradiated day-glo yellow fold to sit
watching the game on radio, don’t you ever draw
on a napkin with my pen again you little winner
in the seventies the adults could raise money
during the day and still hate dinner, now we’re
supposed to be complex, never broke, and critically
violent while dissolving the masks of subjectivity
well, we are—you don’t have to care about that shit
anselm berrigan
[ 224 ]
the equalizer
second series
from controversy
One can become a connoisseur of anything.
One can see, however, that a barrel-vaulted room, or succession of rooms, ran beside the
dome-chambers on the north.
One can hear a Frenchman saying that, the silly fool—as if it was an opium den in
Marseilles.
One monument here is even older than the Friday Mosque.
One thinks of our queens, Elizabeth and Victoria.
One always hears of “Persian” lamb, and when I was in Afghanistan before I did not realise
the economic significance of the trade to that country; though there was much conversation
about lambskins in the Heart bazaar.
One is the arrival of a spare axel from Teheran.
One of the younger men, having said he knew the path up to the Kala-i-Dukhtar, had gone
ahead to await us in the gorge.
One almost hit my hat in its inquisitiveness.
One of the Bakhtiari chiefs, an old friend of Christopher’s, came to dine with us in a private
room.
One farsakh brought us to Saraskand, a village-town dignified by an old brick tea-house.
One evening he led us into an airless cellar lined with glass cases and a safe.
No one really knows if there was a plot.
None the less it is an appalling penalty: a fort-night blotted out of one’s life at great expense.
samuel amadon
thomas hummel
[ 225 ]
samuelamadon.com
the equalizer
second series
room
108
swings back & syncopates
the rotary phone down the hallway
the indistinct pillowtalk of neighbors
they gently intrude into the room
where i massage a pellet of toothpaste
into your fleshy gums
the ridges of your teeth
where you titter & charm me singularly
with your lapel florets
your candies & stories of misadventure
these soft spasms of heartbreak
either yesterday or tomorrow
when i will think of you as one man
smells the musk of geraniums
& the other enjoys the taste
of peppermints
eric sneathen
[ 226 ]
the equalizer
second series
dear jon,
My mother
never licked
my vernix
her voice was
not her own
though her
mother’s tongue
was intact
She was always
debilitated
by empathy
you know
I know
she will
never know
It’s a waste
Wrong affect, mommy
I’ve studied it
Loving you
feels wrong
when loving
elsewhere
meaning
is dying
The little girl
covers
her mouth
Oh sorry!
I thought it
was my turn
amanda montei
[ 227 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
tattoo you
Do you have a plastic back?
I see a pose is drawn on it.
Once upon a time, I was graced
with presents of sunbursts and
misspelled lilacks; heard tell of dragons.
Also once, I peeled free
a ground-chuck bandage pad
by its tape to reveal on a friend
a fresh rendering of the boys,
in their Sgt. Pepper gear.
So you see,
the ridiculous often begets
the ridiculous, yet’s mistaken
for sublime. Then the ink bleeds,
from age or thrift or burn.
Sunburn. On a part of you that
once looked like you, but now
looks like something else completely.
Tell me this, at least; answer sweetly:
the pose is instructional for anyone
back there, yes? I hope they get
a blue-encircled “?” above your
back’s right dimple. Something
they can tap twice for help.
paul vargas
[ 228 ]
omniality.com
the equalizer
second series
curiosity (xxxiv)
To all those who exist in the universe, greetings.
– Armenian Greeting
What I want to explain is the process of
moving on. Begin with benefit, the Grand
Tour, the lack of humanity, and start writing
liner notes with a lighter on the palm of
a walnut stump. But don’t keep it precious.
Begin with a lost dog, limping. Begin with
an early frosting in the mind, wipe it down,
breathe warmly for a few minutes. Begin with
evaporate and diminish, then write that down,
too. I want to move more nouns than not, to
say: over here you have the dentist your sister
married, and over here you have that same
dentist, but with a haircut you can’t explain to
yourself, and somehow, between those two
dentists, you’ve created a space wherein no
one cares to visit, and then visit it yourself.
Imagine Neptune: fatassed, maybe ringed.
Begin everything by giving everything your
own name: over there is me with feathers.
Over there I have a brick gate. Over there, I
am as if on fire. Call it empathy. Call it that
kind of suffering people find selfish and hate.
Begin with a notion of space and fill it poorly.
Put that little black dress on the page and buy
it a martini, say, O, you look so good by the piano,
don’t you? What with that sweet little lean you’ve
practiced since junior year swiped your purse and stole
your fancy loafers, made you all giggly, didn’t it? Call
patrick whitfill
[ 229 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
that the space you need, take it out for a night
and wonder about her love of classic rock.
Pretend you never cared about the ocean.
Pretend oceans cared about your beginning.
patrick whitfill
[ 230 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
american crisis: do it yourself or do it together?
[do it yourself is fun]
is easy do it yourself is up to you
Whether remodeling your kitchen, dreaming of a master bathroom addition or simply repairing
a leaky faucet . . .
Do it yourself and save.
Welcome to the Wikibooks Do-It-Yourself Kit. Contained here are some of the coolest projects
you’ll ever find
Check out this fab DIY re-use of kraft drink carriers (from Sonic!) by Dandee Designs
do it yourself is becoming a household phrase do it yourself is the way to go
For about $35, you can make a 12” Stormtrooper figure of yourself
We hope you enjoy our festive tutorial, and come visit our blog, Do It Yourself Divas, for other
creative tutorials and DIY projects. We are sisters.
meg ronan
[ 231 ]
megg.ronan @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
[. . . I have always felt uncomfortable with the phrase “Do It Yourself.”]
Do-It-Yourself Gunsmithing Mistakes, Do-It-Yourself Ground Meat, Helping Women: “Do it
Yourself” Foreign Aid
Dental problem? You don’t have to be MacGyver to save a lost filling or replace a crown.
Do it Yourself: Impeach Yourself!
Do-it-yourself centerpieces give you all the artistic appeal of a store-bought item
Will a Do-it-Yourself divorce meet your needs?
DO IT YOURSELF! “It’s like having a professional looking over your shoulder . . . ”
During the 1990s, do-it-yourself funerals have become more popular.
meg ronan
[ 232 ]
the equalizer
second series
[do it yourself is dead]
. . . maybe we can do it together
Do it Yourself but do it Together?
Do It Yourself, Do It Together: Make Feminist Media.
do it together is far better
do it together is a great opportunity
do it together is a resounding victory
Have you ever dreamed about creating your own garden paradise right on your own property,
but found yourself lost?
We can do it together I PROMISE <3
I will call the phrase, “Let’s do it together!” a premise. Of course it is not a premise in the usual
sense. It is a sentiment, a motive, a feeling, or an urge
Microcosm Publishing Pairs Do-It-Yourself Aesthetic with Do-It-Together Ethic.
do it together is really a lot of fun
That’s the Jewish way.
do it together is a challenge
Reading Dante’s Inferno—let’s do it together.
Upgrading your Samsung mobile? Do it together with your favourite case.
Let’s do it together Let’s do it together Let’s do it together Let’s do Let’s do
Let’s Do It Together! What is the practice? What does the practice look like? How do you do the
practice? How do you know the practice worked?
Did you want more blog posts from me? Well you’re in luck, because I’m now a contributing
writer for element14’s new “Do-It-Together” Blog!
do it together is the feminine way
do it together is a better acronym
do it together is some funky bomb
....
Ok, we’ll do it together
meg ronan
[ 233 ]
the equalizer
second series
shooting in west village
Elliot Morales shot Mark Carson in the face
Because he was gay with a .38 caliber pistol
He kept in his pocket he threatened bartenders
With it if they tried to call the cops when he
Pissed on their walls he called Carson a gay
Faggot wrestler he asked him do you want to
Die here men still shoot other men for being gay
Women never shoot anyone for being gay we are
Two different sexes one that tries really hard
Not to come and one that tries really hard to
Come men have an orgasm on them at all times
Every guy is walking around with one right now
In their pocket for women an orgasm is something
More complicated like the perpetually misplaced
Keys I swear honey you had it last night I watched
You put it down right here I know I borrowed
Your orgasm to go to the store but I put it back
On the kitchen table when I got home and you
Liked it yeah you did on the kitchen table all hot
And dirty and evil and unforgivable
evan commander
[ 234 ]
the equalizer
second series
echoes
Too many chorales—
cacophonies—
constant companions
insisting upon
reverb conversations
chants in anger
broken promises
A storm drain
a drain pipe
a pipe organ
calling—
persistent, bodiless choirs
vibrating inside
the morning’s
open throat
swelling
into a chorus
nothing
into a crescendo
nowhere
adam stutz
[ 235 ]
adamcstutz @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
nothing in the frame
is not the same as
scaffolding is not
the same as—
they put it in the skin
peripheral instances
lead to
what is it you want
is not the same as
circulation is not
the same as fragments
put together is not
the same as
the instance has no
standard of sincerity
is not the same
as things gathered
along the road
(After Forrest, December 1 2009, San Francisco)
junior clemons
[ 236 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
incantation
2
love, led by wandering storms of light
Windy on
spoked rose
the body of the sun
in the space of blowing everywhere
to create beings from parachute pods
to pillow night ( cloudy ending )
to secrete the dream stuff
to situate dawn within it
to rend the deepest piloting
uncertain
whereupon our material manifestations
sleeping among the trees and houses
take their latest shapes
&ndso we is forced in
to weeping landfall
to administer the idea of everlasting fire
to the hylopathic core ( still too hot to touch )
so that only on its mantle
can we celebrate the ocean of birth & death
tingeing the black earth deepened by the beams of its blood
light
the results of an embracing sacrifice
without desire for result
& in the blackness beyond the fiction of that blue
& in that thin strip for our breathing alone
& in a mind fixed within these two
the atmosphere expands under a tranquil sun
into a daylight tethered to the inverse rotunda of periodic
earth-time
to this certain ball
multitudes, resultant of nothing
but the mode of aperiodic passion
where we
tremble
to this victory—
michael peters
[ 237 ]
michael-peters.com
the equalizer
second series
cradling exteriors
coupling interiors
surfacing
upon the small of this back
into illuminating manuscripts
coming back to
life, in a wherewithal
as the shadows of the clouds move across the sunlit landscape
michael peters
[ 238 ]
michael-peters.com
the equalizer
second series
A music and a mood, together in a hesitant embrace
That makes them equal at the end.
John Koethe
[ 239 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.11
ray dejesús
[ 241 ] from cripes: a stampede of no-nos
[ 240 ]
the equalizer
second series
from cripes: a stampede of no-nos
**
calamity spent
mis nervios
mios
neon carnival
uncle mo: he hasn’t
run in a
year
erosion
ethos
harbor
little
egg
game changer
game changer
aggressive style of play in desolate spooky
ingot
it twas a projectile airborne that caught us in the midst of dressing in a sensational plaid
or tartan shirt that found a burnt out hotel next to the gang’s ex-wife but it was sensational
to play bingo with the gang are we not correct in saying that life in let’s say in lodi is different
than life in the highlands the hinterland feets firmly planted in my where do we go from here?
“What are we gonna to do now?” says strummer whilst he strums but isn’t that the case the
rains came when it rained mens & womens floatation device firmly planted
in my why do “I hate children?”
ray dejesús
[ 241 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
ii
projectileairborne
burntouthotel;;
ray dejesús
[ 242 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
iii
taking zee walk
tapping zee shoes
tappan zee bridge
tao zee chin
mention product one time every
8 seconds
{WAIT!}
product
ray dejesús
[ 243 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
iv
need
GOD
yr a winning
smile
bjorn’s borg
that’s not a racquet in yr
hand, that’s a pistola
the cameras are
rolling in the burnt
out hotel
to the west
HEY, DANNY
TREJO me presta
una sonrisa
translated smile
with two big
JAKE
LAMOTTA
fists
IN NEED OF A SWITCHBLADE
IF NOT A PEN KNIFE
ray dejesús
[ 244 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
v
our last trip
to the jardin friends
come & go comedy team
HEGEL & Schlegel
zoo & flora
ray dejesús
[ 245 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
vi
Preface
Medit
ations
on
death
Medi
tatio
ns
on
birth
Norm Duke
ray dejesús
[ 246 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
EPILOGUE
ray dejesús
[ 247 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
cripes: a series of tiny marches
Fastforward
ray dejesús
[ 248 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
but to theend
ray dejesús
[ 249 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
the cap & gown
ray dejesús
[ 250 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
summarily brides
ray dejesús
[ 251 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
groomedgetget
ray dejesús
[ 252 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
pithy
pastry
platitude
burnt
hotel
pity
out
on
the
west
ray dejesús
[ 253 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Mercury in
ray dejesús
[ 254 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Um, humidity, heartburn, Swede
ray dejesús
[ 255 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
um plum thighs
ray dejesús
[ 256 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
inscrutablehighway
robberythe
ray dejesús
[ 257 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
how to measure success
ray dejesús
[ 258 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
INTERMINABLE
ray dejesús
[ 259 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
part ii
two grams of salt, but
ray dejesús
[ 260 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
innocent the punch punch
ray dejesús
[ 261 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
the scrutiny
the mute-ny
and
ray dejesús
[ 262 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Ted Williams’
ray dejesús
[ 263 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
head frozen, Bambino
ray dejesús
[ 264 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
never give the first
ray dejesús
[ 265 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
of anything, and
ray dejesús
[ 266 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
and if I was a Spaniard Spaniard
ray dejesús
[ 267 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
then
venga
east
slugs
it
out
ray dejesús
[ 268 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
staged killer instinct,
ray dejesús
[ 269 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
Ed.
ray dejesús
[ 270 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.12
willa carroll
[ 272 ] No Eyes, No Ears, No Nose, No Tongue,
No Body, No Mind, No Color, No Sound,
No Smell, No Taste, No Touch
danielle pafunda
[ 273 ] I vain crush
sam a. mccormick
[ 274 ] Drawing
cathy eisenhower
lindsay rose moore
patrick whitfill
jennifer h. fortin
krystal languell
kawaji ryuko
cm burroughs
junior clemons
dawn sueoka
brett price
nada gordon
andrea henchey
samuel amadon
[ 277 ] R.I.P. Bela Lugosi
[ 278 ] Curiosity (XL)
[ 281 ] Security Breach
[ 282 ] Wife Fight
[ 283 ] 曇日
[ 287 ] Reason I Want to Be Touching
[ 289 ] Death of a thrush
[ 290 ] To the Birds
[ 291 ] Blue Living in the Now
[ 292 ] Close(ness)
jennifer l . knox
[ 294 ] Cue: “Action Man” Theme
eric sneathen
[ 295 ] Room 109
amanda montei
[ 296 ] Dear Jon,
[ 271 ]
the equalizer
second series
no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body,
no mind, no color, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch
Until theirs. I split
from nothing
into two pixels
deep in their bodies
willa carroll
[ 272 ]
willacarroll @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
i vain crush
I vain crush
against your windpipe.
I am close
coming close
dragging down your neck
rope wrapped & bucking.
Nothing splintered,
nothing gained. Splayed
as ever all our boring-oring-oring limbs
the sign of true affection. Boo hoo.
You leave wife after wife
at the bottom of a well.
The sleeper has a fist.
He curls it ’round his fat coin.
Just for me, don’t you?
danielle pafunda
[ 273 ]
dpafunda@ uwyo.edu
the equalizer
second series
drawing
for Ken Henson
I wouldn’t believe it now
if you started drawing
the entire world might collapse
(as it tends to) forever
your life might change
in unexpected ways
if you picked up a pen
and made mark
committed to the idea
that mark making is more
than what it at first appears to be
a sea touching a sky or a face
exploding into birds
in this poem I draw
into another poem I draw
from the pool of endlessness
that is this life and living
desperately in order to stay
I will make marks
with words and ink and love
for the fact that anything exists
at all is worth more
than anything I could say to you
I am grateful for every moment I get
to be here and touch this time
that may or may not reverberate
up and outside of itself
into more and unimaginable
possibility makes me bleed out
from this astonishing awe
sam a. mccormick
[ 274 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
from welcome back
Welcome back.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
now buy me a present.
the homonymic is not very poignant at this point.
I want to speak about how I have changed
and how these words come out differently,
not as words, necessarily, but as other beings, phenomena, etceteras. [as other etceteras
phenomena ephemera]
but then I feel scared and know nothing,
which maybe is all.
cathy eisenhower
[ 275 ]
the equalizer
second series
this time I mean it.
it’s a test isn’t it—
it isn’t a test of what “slough” means
in various social circles
such as this social circle,
the one you and I are.
this calls for a simile
but I would rather crack a tiny smile,
like this :).
cathy eisenhower
[ 276 ]
the equalizer
second series
r.i.p. bela lugosi
oh, here’s a human being
with vague little sunbeam fingers
my yawn tears are building up, i.e.
it looks like I care
but I don’t, really
who needs friends?
you are gauze covering my camera
we can’t both be velvet foundlings
and there needs to be matching
I’m going to get sent to prison,
obtain a Classical education
and be better than you ever were
(except for my criminal record)
lindsay rose moore
[ 277 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
curiosity (xl)
We wish all of you well. – Zambian Greeting
I once dated a girl who lived in Zambia for
a year, teaching the tribe there how to sustain
clean water supplies. They taught her how to
avoid hippopotami. You see? All of this
connects back on itself, propels itself forward,
some third law of Newtonian poetry, that
what you put in will come back out, except, in
this case, with what I hadn’t expected. Take
the Corporal I met the other day who wanted
everything in his life to go back to the kiss.
And he said it like that, The Kiss. I can only
assume he wanted to go back to that one he
remembered as the epitome of all kisses, not
the first one, exactly, but the first one that
mattered. This was before the intervention of
anti-matter in the nebulae. This was before
matter mattered. I spent a few nights at Erin’s
place and she showed me the revolver her
father bought for her and taught her how to
use, and I knew then that I would remember
more of her revolver than of her kiss, though
both clicked against my teeth. That Corporal
wasn’t a Corporal but a Sergeant and a sniper.
But the kiss he wanted to remember
was a kiss, the kind of kiss a swallow gives to
a chimney line. Everything should have
a chimney. In a better version of our future, it
comes back to a more invested understanding
patrick whitfill
[ 278 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
of frictionless movement, Erin, I mean, waterbased education. Yesterday, I read that
China’s space program has already launched
the first taikonaut into Low Earth Orbit, and,
somehow, I expected myself not to reconsider
love when I heard the word taikonaut, to know
that I exist in the same universe as taikonaut,
in the same general vicinity when seen from,
say, Jupiter’s carousel of moons and comets.
Dear Erin: do you remember the night you
said you think of me when you shower? Even
though I know how volatile friction is, I will
not stop fiddling with it. This is before anyone
discovers our monuments dedicated to touch
and kiss. I do. I remember because I thought
that meant I became the soap in your shower,
the shampoo and the water and the sound of
the water pooling in your crossed-over-your
breasts armspace. Go ahead and say it. Say
taikonaut and tell me you don’t think about
the first time you touched a thigh not your
own and not on accident. When the other one
wanted their thigh touched. But I had told
you earlier, Erin, how ninety percent of all
American women no longer touch their own
skin in the shower. They use a lufa. They use
a screen. If I would have known how to say
taikonaut that night, I would have taken you
patrick whitfill
[ 279 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
home, Erin, put you in orbit around your
shower in that one bedroom, where you keep
your revolver, where you keep all of
the taikonauts in your revolver, where I
reached over one night and tried to kiss you
the way the wind tries, and even though you
wouldn’t let me, it felt like getting into orbit
with nothing but a gunshot to ride up there.
patrick whitfill
[ 280 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
security breach
The Sadness Criteria dictate that ever, one is a-living while one is a-dying. The Scream has
been auctioned for record millions. I want the entire public beach to myself for a second.
No—I want a fraction for a fortnight. I want not to hear you approach because I am moving
in my room. Our room—you belong here, too. The beeline for anguish, the confused homing
instinct, shamed bees. That surrogacy is a profession. One Sadness Criterion asks: What does
motherhood mean? Explorers, explore thyselves. Drink water, but don’t drink the water. These
qualify as Sad things. The Angels pitted against the Twins. Can we really declare a Victor
when rivalry is so miserable? Blame and blasphemy, all but a handful of utterances are abusive.
DNA will exonerate not many. How chemicals affect us. I want not to want the things back I
have done away with.
jennifer h. fortin
[ 281 ]
jenniferhfortin.com
the equalizer
second series
wife fight
Adult acne in all four seasons
I should’ve maybe only said about 10% of that
Using a wife’s face cream, I get caught
It is shared privately but I can see it
He does a silly voice sometimes
The smell of my old room
On a generative meetup
For little bitty pip culture
You will need a helper
Not to say money is a defect
Academic conference on kink
Like a spanking panel—okay
Shit like that kept bumming me out
Rapidly approaching excellence
An embarrassment of Tuesday chances
Dead today—a wife on an April breeze
We get on the airplane
No room for me and I just take it
Facility pen pal feels ashamed
Xed out and taking it in repose
So looking in horror is mode
À la mode de la crème hear me
krystal languell
[ 282 ]
krystal .languell @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
曇日
(一九〇八、二月）
曇った日だ、
雨の降りさうな日だ、
晝の蟲がチク〱鳴いて、
何処かで女の歌がきこえる―
悲しい聲で―ながく曳く聲で。
淋しい日だ。
楢の林が風に鳴つて
しづかなきの葉が輕く落ちた。
遠くで、かすかな午後の響きが
消えて、幽かに耳がなつて . . . . . .
慵げな、厭な、苦しい日だ、
重い空がシク〱泣いて
ふかい溜息が空氣に觸れる。
ヴィオラの低い調べが葬りの曲を
どこかで . . . . . . また
萎れた花のかをりが . . . . . .
あゝ厭な女の笑ひを、夢を、
いやな、厭な夢を。
曇つた日だ、
さびしい日だ！
濕つた香油の匂ひが動いて、
重苦しい思ひがかさなつて
土のなかへ、どつかへ . . . . . .
私は何處へゆくのだらう？
灰色の空をした、厭な日だ、苦しい日だ、
土の下で、白晝の蟲が泣いてゐる！
厭な日だ！
ふつと林の向かふの野の末に
煉瓦の工場が見える、赤い旗がみえる、
うすい煙が暗い空に
かるく登って消えた。
kawaji ryuko
[ 283 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
苦しい日だ、いやな日だ、
私は何處へゆくのだらう？
土へ？遠くへ？ . . . . . .
否、否、わたしは
この寂しいおもひに暮れて、
やつぱし此處に居るんだ！
kawaji ryuko
[ 284 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
cloudy day
(February, 1908)
It’s a cloudy day,
It’s a day as though it’s going to rain;
Chiku chiku the insects cry during midday,
Hearing from somewhere a woman singing—
With a sad voice—with a drawn-out voice.
It’s a lonely day.
An oak grove rang with the wind
And a quiet leaf of a tree fell down.
Far away, a faint reverberation of an afternoon
Disappeared, and faintly rang in the ears . . . . . .
It’s a weary, inhibiting, agonizing day;
The oppressed clouds weep
And a deep sigh touches the air.
The burial song played by the low notes of a viola
Somewhere . . . again
The smell of a wilting flower . . . . . .
O, the restrictive laugh of a woman, the dream,
The unpleasant, inhibiting dream.
It’s a cloudy day,
A lonely day!
The smell of the damp scented oil stirring,
The oppressed thoughts overlay
Inside the soil, somewhere . . . . . .
Where am I going to go?
With the greying clouds, it’s an inhibiting day, an agonizing day,
Under the soil, crying are the insects of midday!
It’s an inhibiting day!
On the edge of a field by the whiff of a grove
A brick factory can be seen; a red flag can be seen,
In the dark sky the thin smoke
Rose lightly and disappeared.
kawaji ryuko
[ 285 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
It’s an agonizing day, an unpleasant day,
Where am I going to go?
The soil? Somewhere far away? . . . . . .
No, no, I am
Darkened by my lonely thoughts
And obviously here to stay!
kawaji ryuko
[ 286 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
reason i want to be touching
Eggs tincture and are or are not used. Canons of aim
in the dark and darkening:
Lithographs parabola your viscera. Historically accurate
means of saying “I could love you.” Meaning: the pathway
strand in raw linen and “I need you.”
Meaning: redwood, rite, carriage of lit epistles, stave.
cm burroughs
[ 287 ]
the equalizer
second series
of course
it’s the layering
that draws attention
to ‘absence’
then gestures
reflexively towards
what is here / familiar—
horses
and all their glowing
which is to say:
‘us’ and that’s ok
(Outer Sunset, June 16 2009, San Francisco)
junior clemons
[ 288 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
death of a thrush
Birds bathe themselves in dirt
like a person on fire, like a
person on fire waiting
for the end of the world.
Dewdrop or eye
drop?
Does it even matter? Leaves curl
like a person on fire.
O, infant
Rimbaud, who speaks through a prism and
blossoms only in spring,
I have spent too many Saturdays
rehearsing my own botched suicides, speaking so
softly even the moon was like, “What?”
Yet the moon exists
and so do I: my
shaved half, my bleached
half, the baby asleep
in the pool.
dawn sueoka
[ 289 ]
the equalizer
second series
to the birds
for Evan Kennedy
you’d see my name I bet granted
in specs up on the donor wall
of that rage breaking bodies
barely shaking yours
what can I say mine came
pre-gamed with conqueror’s blood
waking in bliss of those winnings
and sire-stalled like fossils tossed
on the throne holding still held it
but it was being thrown
over myself that I distended time
like you pursuing trade found union
lines paralleled in steering
nerve-ways clear of hazard light futures
without forfeit of roadside thrills of course
robes on the floor made no less holy
this tall order’s maintenance stays
true as sun up for us natives
de-snuggied by stock primogeniture’s
no no disposition toward change
wingéd ideals sway in the real wind
I catch little pieces of stray debris and grow
fond of them characters unforeseen
adding color to halo mirages
so most of my friends become heroes
and those for whom flight stays
a terrestrial negotiation keep dirt
scuffs on their well polished boots
think me among that crew
but as an earthworm in a Phrygian cap:
the early bird gets a fight
brett price
[ 290 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
blue living in the now
I never fluff the stars
I am very realistic
when I give out stars
“Pearl-sized”
said no one ever
I have always found something
I could lock to
I’m not talking about
the little birds.
Enough about the gods:
let’s drink.
nada gordon
[ 291 ]
nada@ jps.net
the equalizer
second series
close(ness)
Tell me: am I your tangle of kudzu? Tell me: is our closeness symbiosis
of the parasitic kind? Am I a tick, a tapeworm? A fluke? A flea? Am I
sucking you dry? You’re looking a bit pale these days. Then again,
so am I. Is this closeness choking?
Surely you need your air,
and, I suppose, I
mine.
andrea henchey
[ 292 ]
andreahenchey.com
the equalizer
second series
from controversy
in what year
in what year did we forget
did you turn back
did you turn back
did you turn back
did you turn back
did you turn back
did you turn back
to the water
to the water
to the water
to the
samuel amadon
thomas hummel
[ 293 ]
samuelamadon.com
the equalizer
second series
cue: “action man” theme
Who’s gonna wake and bake
and clean the bottom of the lake
and shovel all of the snow
from the yard?
It’s so hard to do so
when it’s a hundred and thirty below!
Action man!
He’s a man of action!
Action man!
He’s so hyper-vigilant!
Who’s driving with a beer between his knees,
and sweeping all the dog hair in a pile,
and wiping off counter tops?
He don’t need a mop
or a doc who asks him
personal questions!
Action man!
He’s a man of action!
Action man!
Here’s his reading glasses!
Who’s on it like vomit
and washes the germs off his hands?
He’s the man who vacuums the vacuum:
Action man!
jennifer l . knox
[ 294 ]
jenniferlknox.com
the equalizer
second series
room
109
here is a particular feeling
flipping up my collar
unfastening my bow tie
pulling it away from my neck
in cahoots with traffic & calls to prayer
here is the chair
where the air sets down spores
& microseeds
where the girls kiss in manure
& the boys kiss in trash
we exchange hands & wander
into the agreement
the earth isn’t an evil thing
& yet
we do it harm
eric sneathen
[ 295 ]
the equalizer
second series
dear jon,
Maybe this
is an age
without love
yeah sure
you can be
my friend
but the politics
of care
extend beyond
hesitant handholds
baby emojis
life is only
love of production
and love
is unpaid
labor
My selfie
is more
abject
than yours
My mommy
more
overtired
than yours
How can
you tell
if a poet
likes your work
given capitalism
amanda montei
[ 296 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
or whether
violence is ironic
given the virtual
ohhh
I’m invisible
I’m tiny
teeny
howling
howling
“don’t be sad
honey
gimmee
a smile”
amanda montei
[ 297 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
The leafy dell, the city mart,
Equal trophies of thine art
Ralph Waldo Emerson
[ 298 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.13
jules gibbs
[ 300 ] My Father Sits Confidently in the Lap
of Love
samuel amadon
jessica fiorini
jennifer l . knox
zach savich
tyler gobble
jessica fiorini
víctor valera mora
[ 303 ] 00:00
[ 304 ] A Letter to the Editor, Roanoke Gazette
[ 305 ] Continual and Arch
[ 306 ] Other People’s Pappaw
[ 307 ] 13
[ 308 ] Aun en Medio de las Más Terribles
Tormentas
eric sneathen
nate pritts
jennifer h. fortin
amanda montei
jessica fiorini
zach savich
cathy eisenhower
jessica fiorini
paul killebrew
daniel davis-rogers
jessica fiorini
[ 310 ] Room 111
[ 311 ] No Filter
[ 319 ] Jenny Fortin Did Everything Right
[ 320 ] Dear Jon,
[ 322 ] 15
[ 324 ] More Honey
[ 327 ] 33
[ 329 ] I-95: Exit 18
[ 331 ] We Die Here Together (66)
maya weeks
[ 332 ] I Just Don’t Like Being Afraid of Things
zach savich
[ 335 ] The Business
[ 299 ]
the equalizer
second series
my father sits confidently in the lap of love
His head hovers in the mouth of a paunchy handbag
planted on the lap of his owner. The purse sags, unaware
of its own excess, like the surgeon’s tub
full of corpulent cut-aways —
the belly, a pile of waddle.
The handbag is his spacesuit
his control center. My father is poised and obedient
and because he is a teacup poodle, always a little
on edge. He loves being so close
to her nexus, the folds of her thighs
distended stomach that has turned her
out, day by day, and made it impossible
to love anyone more than she can love
a teacup poodle. Her vocals he registers
as large, liquid pulses in the buzz
of his small but dominant brain,
a kind of Dickinsonian
interruption in the fatuous intellect
that disturbs the other travelers in the terminal.
He understands her every word.*
My father peers over the lip of the purse.
His expression of love is un-ambivalent,
unimpeachable. His little ears prick up.
He tilts his teacup head. No one here
recognizes the profound claim he has
on what’s outside the handbag.
My father has a right to peer over the lip,
to shiver and whine, a right to her
bloated affection. He must occupy large
psychic spaces, but to no effect; he must
continually bring the threat of certain harm.
It’s his goddamn, dog-given right.
*See: “What My Father the Poodle Heard”
jules gibbs
[ 300 ]
julesgibbs @ yahoo.com
the equalizer
second series
what my father the teacup poodle heard his lover say to her lover
Conversations about Sad — Enormously felt.
Distillation us. Back holding. Can’t I what?
You and willingness — that for there I — Want.
Distance closes.
Away my Going — Distance and
Patience — Slowing mostly to
struggle, a matter to Differ.
Demands and Schedules.
One-sided Needs —
Each other’s Difficulties met.
A Deficit as love to willingness
Responds. My needy being that — MisUnderstood I can’t —Be — .
Walking away without your
Eggshells. Through going you are a
Struggle— a share to Demand — Ambivalent —
you’re that—Felt — increasingly—
Need we something? Need we something?
Your Sex — Space — between us — .
Me on demand. Controlling somehow —
Confusing. That’s how you do.
Understand please, when I —
Position that in myself —
Put to Want — Question — the Not
That is — the So.
jules gibbs
[ 301 ]
the equalizer
second series
from controversy
The excuses listed here are trumped by the concept of interruption, an attribute of dialogue
discussed in Jean-Luc Nancy’s “Myth Interrupted,” where he rethinks the relationship of
“structuralism” to “myth.” What you did not tell me is our friendship.
She tells me of squeezing pain that really hurt, followed by utter release into the light;
whereas what I’m really referring to is simply a continuing pitfall. Sometimes a powerful
impression/ exudes a fragment. A t-shirt in the window reads, “If you can rope me you can
ride me.”
Both could be said to be members of literary “schools,” though with perhaps more or less
different emphasis.
Somehow, despite whatever suspicions I harbored, I would have to find a way to go out and
play with the boys. I read Soledad Brother: The Prison Letters of George Jackson intently and
attended the funeral of his brother Jonathan after his abortive act of revolutionary violence at
the Marin County Civic Center.
It’s as if said development is an ever-repeated trauma. “My dear Gertrude Stein,” he begins.
Read this in sadder light—and of course I’m not insisting on this as the only reading—
Catullus is, among other things, the exfoliation of a Jew’s almost-suppressed anger at goy
culture.
An atmosphere is the habit of whatever/ perimeters occur within the first person.
On two occasions when I was in the coffee shop, I heard what must have been an Eastern
European language spoken at a table of women, on another occasion I heard Arabic, and
that’s about all the occasions I’ve been inside.
samuel amadon
thomas hummel
[ 302 ]
samuelamadon.com
the equalizer
second series
00:00
A woman in time validates systems and imposters
while a new crop of generals grind lipstick to the white sheet
frets about absorbency and unrealistic filter expectations
attuned to the wish instead of the content fulfillment
alive in ultimate state confident yet desolate in tooth
me and mine inhabit tensile turnstile until one of us applies the road
lakefront pulls the scalp back reveals a terror under the glass surface
built by bodies of wood the location of all to hold dreary
singed receptors wave raw in the night
unfocused starlight turns in on itself
eventually I will find I out and then
it will be I that presses against spectrum
jessica fiorini
[ 303 ]
jess.fiorini@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
a letter to the editor, roanoke gazette
No one over eighteen looks good in spangly butt pants
and eighteen’s really pushing it, folks, and by “pushing it”
I mean you look like a hooker. A father walking with his
daughter who’s wearing short-shorts looks like a pedophile.
I don’t give a shit if she plays the piano. BBQ ribs are
barbaric. All that Diet Lime Yoo-hoo you drink’s burning
pinholes in your gut which let in lights that take the shape
of constellations on the walls—star maps, folks—the kind
the ancients navigated by, and by “folks” I mean “you people.”
jennifer l . knox
[ 304 ]
jenniferlknox.com
the equalizer
second series
continual and arch
Civilization forgets its raincoat in the cab—
I hoped to be older when driven to Proust—
The melody being whatever you repeat—
Beautiful warbled hopscotch grid—
So you see a person in a car for sale in a field—
The past wasn’t simpler but memory is—
My neighborhood has its own stained glass shop—
I offer the business I can—
zach savich
[ 305 ]
zsavich@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
other people’s pappaw
I am the turnstile. That’s different than letting
the wolf in the house. We have to stop
denying that the dogs are disappearing.
Flowers from a silent search after something
that has disappeared in the dark. You have to
be a good captain if you’re going to get your boat.
One’s ability to understand love. It’s like believing
in your own toes. Each is a form of trouble-making.
I want to mess up this tiny cabin. If only what I said
were true. Men can absorb a lot of anger from each
other if it’s done in a playful way. Even more noise
like a truck, I am free of panic. I could take handfuls
of darkness. Each of us deserves to be forgiven for not
wanting to be a farmer, closer to some silent energy
in the middle of the universe. I am the turnstile.
Mash-up of things Robert Bly said
in an interview with American Poetry Review
tyler gobble
[ 306 ]
tylergobble.com
the equalizer
second series
13
There are some bouquets I let die
it is a cruel property
I keep thorny hedges
and acid moats
sometimes I scale the parapet
grab lightening by the nuts
pull it from the clouds
and shove it right in my eye
the eye of your neighbor
and a one-eyed cat’s good eye
I do this as a curse and a wish
jessica fiorini
[ 307 ]
the equalizer
second series
aun en medio de las más terribles tormentas
Aun en medio de las más terribles tormentas
siempre he optado por defender
la dignidad de la poesía
Volverla a sus orígenes
A su deslumbrante cuchilla de muchos filos
víctor valera mora
[ 308 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
even in the midst of terrible storms
Even in the midst of terrible storms
I have always chosen to defend
the dignity of poetry
Return it to its origins
Its dazzling many-edged blade
& Guillermo Parra
víctor valera mora
[ 309 ]
1935 – 1984
the equalizer
second series
room
111
here where the neon light
twitches a vacant green
both before & after twilight
our mediocre wilderness
where bedsheets crinkle into mountain
crags that rise up between us
& melt into long streams of cotton
we see schools of fish quickly
shift apart from our splashing
& careening all our oils
diffusing into other liquids
or a chain linked field i remember
wild grass
i entered
for dandelion pollen & for you
chiseled gold flakes & blew
eric sneathen
[ 310 ]
the equalizer
second series
no filter
I step out of the house
The taste of morning coffee
still fresh on my tongue
I keep my head down
ride my bike through the streets of this town
Because I don’t want to see
don’t want to see what’s to come
Do I think what I think
Because of somebody else
Or do I really believe it myself?
Graffiti
On the side of the bridge says ATTACK
ATTACK / ATTACK / ATTACK
Every person that I ever loved
Is just a trace on the screen today
Just a ghost in my soul
So I just need to know
do I feel what I feel
When the machine tells me to?
When can I believe in myself?
Help me believe in myself
#
Various birds
whisper their songs
muted
on the afternoon breeze
nate pritts
[ 311 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
which carries them further—
both the music &
its originators—
than any other defined span
of simple air.
For example
there are sounds I heard
years ago
when I was a different person
made of other constituent elements
& subject
to a dizzying array
of requirements that have since been abandoned.
But you can never undo
an instance of attention.
You can’t ever be free.
#
The heart is forever inexperienced. – Thoreau
#
nate pritts
[ 312 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
I take a few fragments
from every landscape
& build a colossal patchwork lacking context
which I walk away from
every nightinto the night
over the purple ground
of perpetual evening
in which everything exists eternally
but lost.
#
I imagine a picture of myself
on an arctic cliff,
dressed for the end of the world
though you can’t see me or my costume
because landscape dominates
the image,
not the single small mark I make—
joyous at last!—
separated from the heft of a life
that was like the drag
of wet clothes when you step
out of water.
Some days I fear I can’t leave
my computer which is where
everything happens but then I look
down at the stilled canal waters
& my eyes see new things.
My eyes are always seeing new things.
I miss when you could lose someone
nate pritts
[ 313 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
forever, like the music
erupting in my soul when I remember
anything, a whole person
sometimes or just perceive
the time & motion of my own life
instead of this daily flood
of ephemera, this electronic life.
#
Dark mornings
aboundcrowd the season.
You can’t distinguish
the noise of wind
the rilled air against leaves
from within the sinister engines
of the rain.
I am recording
the final experiences of a human
on this planetentangled
with nature.
#
My dream of brushing the grey from my hair
My dream of wandering lost
in my own body
in the skeleton of a house
I should knowa place
familiar to me
nate pritts
[ 314 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
like any memory
like talks we had in which we planned
for some future exigency a picnic at the sand bar
where the land doesn’t gradually transition
to the water but instead just meets it crumbling
everything sure & steady simply dissolving
all of it just one more state of matter
things moving & changing
beyond our ability to touch them to shape them
to be anything to each other
#
As long as I live in this head
baffled by its own intentions & decisions
I contend with this mistaken space
hard & grey
at the center of my spirit.
Better to walk out in the mornings
uncertain & glad
without trying to predict everything
with my own blunt instrumentation.
Everywhere I go, I ruin the world
by trying to guess at it.
#
At my desk I move
a few papers around
use a pen to weight down the scraps
nate pritts
[ 315 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
because there’s a wind coming through the house
washing over me like starlight in an open field
one of those nights between us
which I remember now like a passage
in a bookjust words
meant to signify all the magic in a moment
all the wisdom
that terrible ephemeral construct
which is all we know
both of ourselves & all these things that have happened
I don’t even try to remember
I don’t type lines
as the low murmur of the world
arranges the light by which we see
tricks us into believing a path away from
something might also be a way back
#
Great Blue Heron on the rocks
Near the edge of the water & I
Don’t want to get too close
He’s not a figure for something
he doesn’t have to carry my soul
All the sadness I keep packed inside
So then I get too close
startle him into flight
nate pritts
[ 316 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
I pretend for a minute that he’s the last one left
What’ll we do when he’s the last one left?
What if I’m the last one left?
White light of the sun
All over the old wood of the porch
The leaves of the trees all around
Dumb green hands
Can’t hold it back
so it spills & it spills
A flood with one terrible divine mission
to bury everything here
under mountains of tide
I try to imagine there’s nothing moving,
No one left
I can taste the trill of the insects
on the back of my tongue
So sharp a song so lonely
I pull it all in
nothing left but me
Then I close my eyes & feel
Myself fall apart gladly
#
nate pritts
[ 317 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
Here I am at the table, these chairs,
all painted fresh to look worn.
They blend in with this present age
of getting whatever you want
even when you have no idea what that is.
We generate more waste
#
Baby, I’d like to take you out tonight
get a beer & we could talk.
Baby we could talk all night
under this big dark.
Quietly surrounding us is the infinite whisper
of the cosmos the sky full of snowflakes
as winter breaks apart.
I’d get lost again trying desperately to count
every fleck
on your skin, those bursts around your eyes
so alive the trees with no leaves.
The days will eat you alive if you let them.
nate pritts
[ 318 ]
nate @h-ngm-n.com
the equalizer
second series
jenny fortin did everything right
Because no one asked me to be a natural wonder, I am a natural hazard. I thought I could
do something with one hand, and it turns out I can’t. Where we might think of our soul as
a composite of space, time, community, as ever-changing and growing, or a hazelnut railing
against tedium, the necklace your mother gave you two birthdays ago exists in relationship to
these things. Love and indifference have been emptied of literal cups and lamps and necklaces.
In this way, abstractions are anti-spatial, anti-temporal, and anti-social. The overbearing
assumption that we can dictate the manner in which our surroundings continue in our absence
is the ultimate arrogance.
jennifer h. fortin
[ 319 ]
jenniferhfortin.com
the equalizer
second series
dear jon,
What I mean
to say is
if mama baby
eats
mama breasts
eats her own
penis baby
if sovereignty
eats
insurgency
eats
animals
that have
sex
with animals
I guess I’ll just
I’ll appropriate
you
mama
Jonny
you make me
so anxious
your
stay with me
don’t leave me
in my soiled
diaper
don’t clean me
don’t give me
breasts
alcoholism
I’ll eat
you up
I love/hate
you so
amanda montei
[ 320 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
all the poets
mama
Jonny
do we care
about love
I can’t tell
where desire
begins
where you end
where feelings
come from
I could be
someone else
at any time
I’m
a girl
“always
already”
dead
amanda montei
[ 321 ]
aemontei.tumblr.com
the equalizer
second series
15
Tracked all ways
15 minutes of time
with you, dearest
lye tested solution
litmus resultant
empathy and sound
sculpted experience presents
excuse for a noun
titled tile titillated
built to tilt this over
flow is not a lazy word
no matter how poorly wielded
if yonder trees look quiet
they’re employed hyperactive
listening membrane pliancy
exploiting the capillaries
between oxygen and carbon
I have knifed a tear
to see you, dearest
to connect our silver heart
threads to slip in right
above the knot loop
to expose my self to self
jessica fiorini
[ 322 ]
the equalizer
second series
I am moving
a non-existent solid object
through actual dust
it is how you and I
construct layers
to be tamped down
by ladder top
I beam
jessica fiorini
[ 323 ]
the equalizer
second series
more honey
Wondrous to pad the end of a ladder—
Or lumber too long for a truck—
With knotted wreath or traffic cone or duct taped oven mitt—
Wondrous to massage hail from a paw—
Wondrous the tuning, continual and arch—
Or new places for launching a canoe—
A proper guest, in this life—
I dry my hands on the towel’s back—
zach savich
[ 324 ]
zsavich@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
from welcome back
Welcome back.
1
2
3
4
5
it’s all fuzzy monologic.
lists of side effects float across
the wavering heated air.
(you know what I’m talking about, right, because that was so descriptive?)
my kitty cat feels a lot of them with me
because we have a supernatural disconnection
involving his white fur and my extremities.
where are the tranquillizers,
ourselves with homynyms,
esp. rich, riddle, and rifle.
cathy eisenhower
[ 325 ]
the equalizer
second series
I could go on but there are too many
and others better than I have listed them.
here’s what I will say to him with my hands:
I was thinking about anger
and then a band of heat in my brain flared for a moment.
no, not that.
do I sound confused?
I sound confused even with no sound,
or I mean even with only certain sounds
of which I am not the source.
I won’t say anything then.
nothing is happening.
nothing is ever happening when something something something what?
cathy eisenhower
[ 326 ]
the equalizer
second series
33
It is the year of blood lettings from weekly panicked vein
floorboards full of dust plantings blossoming from cat ears
non-matted now rusted we forget a night so there is dried vomit under foot
slippery razor point is my captain to climb a tress is nothing
compared to descent Alice spends her spirit with astral
plain monday sneaks a peak up my weekend
duress undress I snip the stick my razor slips
the thread loop the clip drawn down from thought insulate
after a flood of inquiries sea force the net prophet retires
I remember about green leaves with silver backs diseased from salt
pain phenomena I am concerned about my usage of life
an addict to foci that gather and garner spaces
we’re doing it all wrong and will never get where we’re going
unless it is strife pasture and in that case we’ve arrived
and it’s wasn’t worth the effort Mondays only happen to humans
we’ve built the end in but are to afraid to go through with it
jessica fiorini
[ 327 ]
the equalizer
second series
I’ve loved you without delay,
all immediacy and concrete,
life stopped entirely
then lurching on impossibly
through jobs and disinterest,
I thought that, too,
I remember now,
we were leaving together,
we had the same perspective,
vectors of speech
that failed the seductive majesty of image
but manifested in sound
stupid repetitive time,
coworkers who said every word
that came out of their mouths
and ate all the horseshit
they could stand.
It’s something, isn’t it,
to be so amenable?
By the time they say jump,
you are already
in the water.
You feel it going into your ears,
your nose, even draining
through your eyelids
into your skull
and surrounding your brain,
which feels buoyant and detached.
You close your eyes
to stop the water from coming in,
but then new eyes sprout up
directly on the outside of your brain
and open, stingingly, into the darkness.
You sense them adjusting
to the light and salinity,
it’s a strange feeling
that they can’t see anything
and presumably never will,
and yet there they are, without question,
open and ready.
paul killebrew
[ 328 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
i-95: exit
18
the thing you hold dear
cannot come any closer
without collision scattering
antlers & glass tangle
of sinew spleen & ants
tumbling the city they’re
attempting to build
in passenger seats
glass antlers foolish
bile lost in evaporating
sunset hours ago moon
to my left endless dots
to the gulf please
don’t be long, reset
blow into the crevice
inspect the copper
connectors for dust
but the trick is a fake
breath a placebo
the metal was worn out
the attempts in number
over quality or style
gave chance machines
to build your kingdom
again with artifacts
pixelated gemstones
daniel davis-rogers
[ 329 ]
drr9702@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
you take on your quest
that said it was there
snow between copper
that stuck in the meat
of the hero with a timer
chewed through hero
& cerulean shield
holding what’s dear
consumes what’s left
of his fingers
daniel davis-rogers
[ 330 ]
drr9702@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
we die here together
(66)
It just fits
these planks exist
to hold bones and scotch
except I favor champagne
like a limp
legging it to finish
before the last drizzle
before the first rain
made real this time
by way of drop intent
we arrive here
together
together
together
jessica fiorini
[ 331 ]
the equalizer
second series
i just don’t like being afraid of things
smukke børn
carve wicked
party hard
storm outta göteborg
memory
blips
paper
wasteland
pulse twitches
no sympathy
for the critic
knowledge is not
a set of facts
maya weeks
[ 332 ]
mayaweex @ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
tactile and vibrant
and colourless
you don’t have
to pay attention
to everything
you learn something
when things
don’t turn out
the way you expected
motion out
thrust
let the
edge down
let it be
muddy
maya weeks
[ 333 ]
the equalizer
second series
one likes to wake up in one’s own bed
when one has spent the night dreaming
one is someone else
where we come from
is not so important
as why we left
good morning america
i am on the verge of dying
of laughter
sleeping
between
a candle
and a lamp
i want a water that bubbles i want a detour of rubble
why this paper
is too thick
you get to make your friends yourself
maya weeks
[ 334 ]
the equalizer
second series
the business
I carried the entire stairs—
Hollyhocks, centaurs—
Grief thinned me so I appear very young—
Then my hangovers just stopped—
What do bees know—
There’s more honey in my mouth—
One touches tenderly the conjurer’s hands—
How do they remain—
zach savich
[ 335 ]
zsavich@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.
Robert Frost
[ 336 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.14
[ 338 ] Pangaea
kawaji ryuko
[ 339 ] 爆風のあとの海岸
nada gordon
[ 341 ] Let Us Meet in Yurakucho
evan commander
[ 342 ] No Water, But a Wall
kelly schirmann
[ 343 ] When I Finish My Exercises
mark yakich
nicole callihan
paul vargas
david bartone
[ 344 ] What, Friends, Is a Long Time?
[ 345 ] Break
[ 346 ] You Make Me Feel Like Danson
[ 347 ] One Thousand Wild Ghosts Running
Through Me
michael peters
[ 350 ] Incantation 3: Love, Sound Enough to
Implode the Grates of Creation
edmund berrigan
amy lawless
junior clemons
cathy eisenhower
tracey mctague
jennifer h. fortin
daniel davis-rogers
paul killebrew
danez smith
jules gibbs
[ 352 ] Poem
[ 357 ] il faut cultiver notre jardin
[ 358 ] All the Feasts These Aren’t
[ 359 ] I-95: Exit 82
[ 361 ] not an elegy for Mike Brown
[ 364 ] The Last Poem
[ 337 ]
the equalizer
second series
pangaea
Anyone can draw the world
The continents merge to
One can sense its moral view
Sunrise on the telephone
It’s brown, tan, and blue.
[ 338 ]
the equalizer
second series
爆風のあとの海岸
(一九〇九、八月）
白―
明るい海のにほひ、
濁った雲の静かさ、
白―灰―重苦しい痙攣 . . . . . .
腹立たしいやうな、
搔き毮しつたやうな空。
藻―流木―
磯草のにほひ。
白―
岸と波とのしづかさ。
―忘却―夢―
苦闘の影―
白―
波の遠くに遠くにひゞく
夢の如うな音―狂ひ―嘆き
―白
―濁り―風
風―
しづかな音
風―
白―
kawaji ryuko
[ 339 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
the shore after a storm
(August, 1909)
White—
Smell of the bright sea,
Silence of the opaque cloud,
White—grey—dull convulsions
As though irritated,
A sky as though torn away.
Seaweed—driftwood—
The smell of beach grass.
White—
The quietness of the shore and the waves.
—Lapse of memory—dream—
Agonizing shadow—
White—
Far, far away from the waves resonating
A sound like a dream—disorder—grief—
—White
—Opaque—wind
Wind—
Quiet sound
Wind—
White—
kawaji ryuko
[ 340 ]
1888 – 1959
the equalizer
second series
let us meet in yurakucho
In a tearoom beside high buildings
A pine tree grows over a chic black fence
Shampooed hair looks inviting
Red apples are sent off to Tokyo
Sake of a stall tastes bitter
Unknown neighbors join together
Let us meet in Yurakucho
On a golden shining beach
Let us fall in love
Naked as mermaids
nada gordon
[ 341 ]
nada@ jps.net
the equalizer
second series
no water, but a wall
Of my first lover there is a boat drifting,
the oars have been cast down in the hull
as if this were not water but a wall.
There is a repeated knock as of hollow
against hollow, wood against wood
stopping to know if on wood against
the traps of the night-fishers
I hear before my knocking the sound
of a knock drifting.
We feel the dead person
always around us
hollow against hollow wood against wood
dull against dull head against head
rock against rock head against head.
Of my first lover there is a man dead in me,
the parts have been cast down to the past
face of the boy still just a child
the face of the child while still just a child
chugga, chugga, chugga say peace but really
could you make it without doing something terrible?
The knocked run so far away in the head
hounding
is hounding the bird,
the rim of the sky is hounding the bird
as if there were no water but a wall
there is the repeated ticking as of wing against side
side against wing.
evan commander
[ 342 ]
the equalizer
second series
when i finish my exercises
I am finding a lot of weird joy
in putting my limbs inside a moving machine
& promising to stay put
What can we do but fantasize
about a different set of ways
to waste our own time?
I wanted some other type of leg
my whole life: less maternal, less meat
I rode a bicycle
& then I began to swim
I gave up swimming to walk
I bought a car & put you inside it
I got tired of that too
When you look at your life
it is only from the ground
where the tree-tops begin
I shouldn’t have ripped it to pieces
like that, but then again:
This equinox
I’d just like to go through the motions:
Get what you want
Want something different
Flowers aggressively fucking outside
This new sun is empty as a calendar
& me like a jar, unsure how
to be more clear
kelly schirmann
[ 343 ]
kellyschirmann.com
the equalizer
second series
what, friends, is a long time?
A great passion for postage stamp licking is
Usually due to a lack of writing letters.
Cleaning power tools in the dishwasher
Sounds like a fine idea, but rime riche
Rarely corresponds to the importance
It’s given. Alas, what a strange &
Unfortunate adventure it is to be a human
In love! Didacticism works so well
For others mostly. Let your guide be no
Guide: the best way to hurt your enemy
Is to jump headfirst from a bridge &
Land on him. In other words, to get one
Thing done procrastinate it with another.
There’s something undeniable about existence,
But it cannot be agreed upon. Although your
Baby may still only babble, don’t underestimate
How much she understands. In time she’ll
Find her own disappointment in yours. Like
Children who still write to Santa, people who
Believe in God just want someone else to thank.
mark yakich
[ 344 ]
mark @ markyakich.com
the equalizer
second series
break
We walked to the
and you were quiet
Then I asked if
but you said
The sky
And even the
Though it was less
a puddle than a
I confessed
that I had
but that was back
when it snowed
and now it was
the blooming
My God
the blooming
I reached for
but you
The shadows fell
your pride
And that was okay too
nicole callihan
[ 345 ]
the equalizer
second series
you make me feel like danson
Dear Judas,
Won’t you come out today?
Everything old is you again.
Bring me a dire love
(for I am become Seth,
destroyer of bros; oh whoa whoa).
Beast up the field;
we’re living in a world
for fools. So jump in the wine;
rock your mommy—it’s fine.
Whatever the fuck the dude
from Creed is singing. For
I see a bathroom risin’.
I hunger for your lunch:
a lone, lonely dime.
This is the M. This is
the M, my friend. I’m not
enough, so don’t regret it.
But yes, I did it Friday.
All along, it’s Ollie’s arm.
All along, it’s Ollie’s arm . . .
—Ball Hard-Gus
paul vargas
Bismarcky, Nor Tacoma
[ 346 ]
omniality.com
the equalizer
second series
one thousand wild ghosts running through me
I have
believed
to some
degree
in
every love
I’ve read.
Not just
Catullus and
Cleopatra and Antony,
and Basho’s
“A bee
staggers out
of the peony,”
I include
“The American
Scholar” “Pierre” and
Thoreau’s journals
because of what
the idea of
your coiled
frame in a library
stall does to me:
one boot kicked off,
evening cup
of morning’s coffee,
or yesterday’s coffee.
I include the day
my pen reached
across the high
table at
Dirty Truth
and poked
a blue ink dot
on the top
of your hand.
In the one
thousand wild
david bartone
[ 347 ]
the equalizer
second series
ghosts
running
through me,
I include
the cardamom
in the pantry
and the last
little jar
of gift bourbon
vanilla.
There’s the
to-do lists
I am always
finding behind
all the house’s
little pieces
of furniture,
with jotted
notes, lines,
at some traffic
light or
near some
reservoir or
in a meeting,
I’d wished
to write
to you.
And your
tippy-toes
do coil me,
that its
ghost remains
in me.
I am here
to ask you
if you will
live out
your ordinary
david bartone
[ 348 ]
the equalizer
second series
life with mine
and if I may
cup the
petals of
the wildest
music we
may make.
I will know
what to do
with all
the flavors
and shapes.
Though it takes
a lifetime
to explain,
what I will do
is always
be showing you.
We can picnic
on honeycrisp
and brie
halfway up
hillsides
or by
the orchards,
looking for
pollinators,
dreaming
of chickens.
david bartone
[ 349 ]
the equalizer
second series
incantation
3
love, sound enough to implode the grates of creation
lurching in and out of view
leaves, trees
blurring by
cows in pastures
the black bird
splashing in the water
a skull suddenly emerges
from the rocks
pulsing aortic
I am leaking into everything
while the violinist watches
memorizing the sound of the bird in the water
a bargeon a black riverlies waiting
a falcon
lands
on a leather glove
to eat a sinewy cut of meat
in a field
ringed by dark trees
michael peters
[ 350 ]
michael-peters.com
the equalizer
second series
( yes, I saw this, but let us implode the pastoral symbolism )
with a cowbell
at dusk
when credits for the movie
rollup
into unfamiliar names
intonight
a lowend kickdrum
its mallet, thumping
with stars
squealing
under the horse hair
michael peters
[ 351 ]
michael-peters.com
the equalizer
second series
poem
I was pregnant with Eddie
Where were you? I was in England
You had to really punch through
The machine wasn’t friendly
I’ve always had it on the wall
With a little cup on the back
The house I lived in until I was 4 years old
I was really happy when I was 4
Physiological senses I didn’t understand
He was really good at finding used English
I could see where there were holes
and I would fill them
I went there to be a fiction writer
wrote a set of limitations
I could never tell the middle of jokes
edmund berrigan
[ 352 ]
eberrigan @hotmail .com
the equalizer
second series
And well, that’s adulthood. You may know it or you may use terms like “work a job while wearing
lipstick” or “talking while using italics” to describe it. October is a White Castle Crave Case in
the trash. Be a person on the phone, a person’s breath warming the electric cradle electrically.
Hear a person yelling into the receiver. Yelling has kept me off of phones. When a deer starts
something new, she tends to get excited and dive in antlers-first. Many times my approach has
backfired, but being the perennial optimist I keep doing the same. Perennial: a word I have to
look up every god-damned time. Constant, recurrent, perpetual, persistent, retarded. Never
use italics in conversation. Revise what is not working.
amy lawless
[ 353 ]
the equalizer
second series
misleading light they
continually obliterate
each other / gesture:
vision
exploded outside
some window as if
there wasn’t anything
after a series of indicators—
but maybe it is much
softer than that
when we say ‘free’
we mean the shape
of it
(Disintegrating, December 17 2009, San Francisco)
junior clemons
[ 354 ]
juniorclemons.com
the equalizer
second series
from welcome back
Welcome back.
making pause for a soft cuss at your earth.
that sounds kind of sexy
but isn’t meant to be.
the hive is full and sleeping now.
what is that shape of that sound
off to that periphery.
it would be a lifelong project to know—
or I would have to be a different person,
or just accept whatever.
holding my body with my body
as though it used to be a glass
full of water.
it may have been the partially angry water
returning as gone.
but maybe the glass is very large and very empty
and you can see things through it,
like a sky and some trees.
cathy eisenhower
[ 355 ]
the equalizer
second series
things are getting sketchy that were already sketchy on the sky,
cloudish, nightish, owlish,
a black plane.
everything seems drawn—
you seem drawn.
involuntary darkening of face,
room,
block,
town.
there is no concept.
there just isn’t.
this is what there is.
cathy eisenhower
[ 356 ]
the equalizer
second series
il faut cultiver notre jardin
for Luc Sante
a taste for the morbid
with flaccid pop piped in
over obsolete industries
of aloof blond children
& small skulled dogs
profaning the very nadir
of our mirage interlude
dead parents in provinces
of the internal monologue
indolence loosely defined
& merged in skin-given
desires & purpose
like a succession of rented rooms
made less by blood
than accidental impact
of all things before
piano lesson’s projected radiance
chance melodies
& ritual’s mildewed mantra
memory’s tendency to conflate
people & lost snatches of song
with chiral ghosts reflected back
tracey mctague
[ 357 ]
the equalizer
second series
all the feasts these aren’t
Your dog doesn’t like middle-aged women dressed in clothes that try to make them look younger
than they are. Your dog doesn’t like to be in the room when grace is being said. When every
other hand in April is busy, what the terminal hands demand of the lap. Who distributed this
belief? Your dog doesn’t like children, who are almost comically everlasting. Never will he
grasp why you insist on differentiating between climate and temperature. You are decidedly
lavish. Festivals make him uneasy, but he endures. Your dog doesn’t like moving through a
funnel, tightening up powerfully the closer it gets to the end. He, without hesitation and with
frightening speed, really belongs to no one. You could say our journey gathered momentum
because you felt fear and admiration at once. That it was all leading up to the day you were in
control of your own Sundays. Consider everything your dog doesn’t like. Your dog doesn’t like
that you don’t have a dog.
jennifer h. fortin
[ 358 ]
jenniferhfortin.com
the equalizer
second series
i-95: exit
82
in nervous theater
sways you think
you see fingers
two rose-light
bridges black
shadows form
ticking white dots
keep pace & settle
the space between
exits are not objects
glow red like objects
receding faster than
actor & your seeing
than your moments
to grasp headlamps
mark reflections in
your nervous curtain
landscape undulates
daniel davis-rogers
[ 359 ]
drr9702@ gmail .com
the equalizer
second series
Oh, people. Oh . . . people.
The ridiculous ocean of your specificity.
The ridiculous ocean of my specificity.
The ridiculous ocean of YOUR specificity!
The ridiculous ocean of MY specificity!!!
The small robotic dog continues his journey
across the yellow square.
Whose time is this to waste?
Anyone’s, unperturbed but distraught,
pursued through scary dimensions
in hopes of insight, like in sci-fi,
but left instead with an empty week,
empty of nameless verbs
sweating through a thick powder application,
beads of it popping out across the cheek
like a translucent rash,
like water jelly spread over skin toast,
like tiny volcanic islands forming out of glass,
like liquid pathos,
like flags of surrender to the heat,
like anxiety made flesh,
and I’m so sorry these days are so long
and that we spend so much of them
roaring pleasantries
through the thick walls
that separate my luminous hopes
from your own.
Do you get the feeling
that we will never actually meet?
And that never meeting
is the danger of our love?
Our love is dangerous,
cast in downward glances
and tepid papers
flung into the air.
It leaves me giggling and terrified
of what you’ll say
and what I know you can’t.
paul killebrew
[ 360 ]
[email protected]
the equalizer
second series
not an elegy for mike brown
I am sick of writing this poem
but bring the boy. his new name
his same old body. ordinary, black
dead thing. bring him & we will mourn
until we forget what we are mourning
& isn’t that what being black is about?
not the joy of it, but the feeling
you get when you are looking
at your child, turn your head,
then, poof, no more child.
that feeling. that’s black.
\\
danez smith
[ 361 ]
iamdanezsmith.org
the equalizer
second series
think: once, a white girl
was kidnapped & that’s the Trojan war.
later, up the block, Troy got shot
& that was Tuesday. are we not worthy
of a city of ash? of 1000 ships
launched because we are missed?
always, something deserves to be burned.
it’s never the right thing now a days.
I demand a war to bring the dead boy back
no matter what his name is this time.
I at least demand a song. a song will do just fine.
\\
danez smith
[ 362 ]
iamdanezsmith.org
the equalizer
second series
look at what the lord has made.
above Missouri, sweet smoke.
danez smith
[ 363 ]
iamdanezsmith.org
the equalizer
second series
the last poem
This is the last poem where I try to say something.
This is the last poem where I fail to say anything
This is the last poem that relies on oppositions.
This is the last poem I wish I had written in precious couplets.
This is the last poem that won’t refuse itself.
This is the last poem without furniture.
This is the last poem that wants to lasso my head.
This is the last poem where I just sit in this chair.
This is the last poem where I do a headstand in the gallery.
This is the last poem that flies into the window and breaks its neck.
This is the last poem I throw to the dogs.
This is the last poem that faints when the nurse draws blood.
This is the last poem afraid of what it knows.
This is the last poem that wants to know anything.
This is, I swear, the last fucking hysterical poem I’ll write.
jules gibbs
[ 364 ]
the equalizer
second series
It was right and new to say all men were created equal
because it was a light then
But today it is tragic to say it
today it should be fact—
Gregory Corso
[ 365 ]
the equalizer
second series
THE EQUALIZER
2.15
charles bernstein
sandra simonds
[ 367 ] Girl with Pail for a Hat
[ 368 ] Have Fun in France
[ 366 ]
the equalizer
second series
girl with pail for a hat
as quick as you run as
quick as they’ll catch you
upland on spoons or backhand on canastas.
I haven’t slept in many
a year—and the fissures
reply, are you measuring
fears?
charles bernstein
[ 367 ]
epc.buffalo.edu/authors /bernstein
the equalizer
second series
have fun in france
What with such
unbearable melancholy, the poem sells
I mean sustains itself.
Nothing resurrects
the poisonous present
like this incantatory mood—lush,
warned against, too many
layers of gold leaf or a hermaphroditically
florid description
of space.
Ten weeks ago you posted
a picture of your little boy
holding a toy
angel. The moon, background
image and great destroyer, was a mere piece
of tinsel wavering
the galactic fit of
an evening already lost, already
hopelessly nostalgic. Oh
you know this.
The season
flips over—
an animal after
an orgasm. Looks up. At what?
The ceiling is
exactly
as it was.
Take all of your grammarians,
bunch them up like a bouquet of
laws, aestheticize their crass
existence,
by endlessly referencing
them, those, it, they, whatever.
sandra simonds
[ 368 ]
sandrasimonds.wordpress.com
the equalizer
second series
Nothing
flows from the law except
the last
river, abstracted from its own
source of fauna.
Abstracted
and denounced, the testimony
flung like seeds
into the grey depth of
what some
call harmoniousness.
sandra simonds
[ 369 ]
sandrasimonds.wordpress.com
the equalizer
second series
Off nowhere, to be or not be,
all equal, far reaches, no bounds.
Gary Snyder
[ 370 ]
the equalizer
second series
2.1 ° ° ° 3-5
2.2 ° ° ° 6-35
2.3 ° ° ° 36-51
2.4 ° ° ° 52-81
2.5 ° ° ° 82-87
2.6 ° ° ° 88-124
2.7 ° ° ° 125-169
2.8 ° ° ° 170-197
2.9 ° ° ° 198-210
2.10 ° ° ° 211-239
2.11 ° ° ° 240-270
2.12 ° ° ° 271-298
2.13 ° ° ° 299-336
2.14 ° ° ° 337-365
2.15 ° ° ° 366-370
[ 371 ]
the equalizer
second series
samuel amadon
cynthia arrieu-king
david bartone
charles bernstein
anselm berrigan
edmund berrigan
anne boyer
cm burroughs
nicole callihan
willa carroll
junior clemons
evan commander
daniel davis-rogers
ray dejesús
michelle dove
° ° ° 62, 93, 225, 293, 302
° ° ° 26
° ° ° 8-9, 347-349
° ° ° 367
° ° ° 100, 173, 224
° ° ° 7, 352
° ° ° 199, 210
° ° ° 70, 99, 196, 287
° ° ° 76-80, 345
° ° ° 272
° ° ° 17, 67, 98, 179, 236, 288, 354
° ° ° 110, 234, 342
° ° ° 32, 108, 338
° ° ° 329-330, 359
° ° ° 241-270
° ° ° 172, 175, 180, 185, 190
paul ebenkamp
° ° ° 126-169
carly eichhorn
° ° ° 69, 107, 188
natalie eilbert
° ° ° 192
cathy eisenhower
frank fabre
jessica fiorini
jennifer h. fortin
drew gardner
jules gibbs
° ° ° 220-221, 275-276, 325-326, 355-356
° ° ° 74-75
° ° ° 303, 307, 322-323, 327, 331
° ° ° 281, 319, 358
° ° ° 31
° ° ° 300-301, 364
[ 372 ]
the equalizer
second series
tyler gobble
kenneth goldsmith
nada gordon
bradley harrison
andrea henchey
sean patrick hill
° ° ° 58, 306
° ° ° 83-87
° ° ° 55, 57, 61, 195, 291, 341
° ° ° 63
° ° ° 97, 292
° ° ° 53-54
randall horton
° ° ° 184
thomas hummel
° ° ° 62, 93, 225, 293, 302
marsha idlewine
° ° ° 208-209
jeffrey jullich
° ° ° 24, 189
paul killebrew
° ° ° 72-73, 187, 328, 360
jennifer l . knox
eric kocher
krystal languell
amy lawless
noel long
pattie mccarthy
sam a. mccormick
tracey mctague
k. silem mohammad
amanda montei
lindsay rose moore
jess mynes
daniel nester
danielle pafunda
° ° ° 10, 112, 181, 294, 304
° ° ° 33-34
° ° ° 65, 282
° ° ° 11, 191, 353
° ° ° 68
° ° ° 202-206
° ° ° 71, 274
° ° ° 12, 222, 357
° ° ° 201, 207
° ° ° 89-90, 182-183, 227, 296-297, 320-321
° ° ° 219, 277
° ° ° 21-22, 59-60, 223
° ° ° 104-106
° ° ° 23, 94, 216, 273
[ 373 ]
the equalizer
second series
guillermo parra
michael peters
° ° ° 213-215
° ° ° 27, 237-238, 350-351
brett price
° ° ° 18-20, 113, 290
nate pritts
° ° ° 311-318
grace quick
° ° ° 102-103
layne ransom
meg ronan
kawaji ryuko
zach savich
kelly schirmann
sandra simonds
abraham smith
danez smith
eric sneathen
sparrow
adam stutz
dawn sueoka
hunnel tolland
víctor valera mora
paul vargas
° ° ° 174
° ° ° 231-233
° ° ° 13-16, 283-286, 339-340
° ° ° 305, 324, 335
° ° ° 56, 343
° ° ° 368-369
° ° ° 37-51
° ° ° 361-363
° ° ° 28, 64, 109, 171, 226, 295, 310
° ° ° 4-5
° ° ° 212, 235
° ° ° 66, 111, 289
° ° ° 200
° ° ° 29-30, 91-92, 193-194, 217-218, 309-309
° ° ° 101, 228, 346
kevin varrone
° ° ° 114-123
maya weeks
° ° ° 332-334
patrick whitfill
° ° ° 95-96, 176-178, 229-230, 278-280
tyrone williams
° ° ° 186
mark yakich
° ° ° 25, 344
[ 374 ]
the equalizer
second series
editor
design
Michael Schiavo
& layout Blaze & Stone
The Equalizer is free. Published occasionally for the screen and the page.
This is the Second Series, originally published October 2014, Randolph, Vermont.
Permission to reprint work should be directed to the poet. If granted permission, please credit
The Equalizer 2 or The Equalizer: Second Series.
“La terre” first appeared as a tweet at 10:43 a.m. EST, July 17, 2014 (twitter.com/Sparrow14/
status/489782341452038144).
“cripes: a stampede of no-nos” first appeared in Sinescope: A Jounal of the Arts.
“not an elegy for Mike Brown” first appeared on the Split This Rock! blog on August 15, 2014
(blogthisrock.blogspot.com/2014/08/poem-of-week-danez-smith).
The original versions of Víctor Valera Mora’s poems appear in Obras Completas (Caracas:
Fondo Editorial Fundarte, 1994).
Note from K. Silem Mohammad on the Sonnagrams: “My process for composing the Sonnagrams
is as follows: I feed each of Shakespeare’s 154 sonnets one line at a time into an internet
anagram engine, thus generating a new list of words from each line. This initial textual output
gives me a bank of raw material that is quantitatively equivalent to Shakespeare’s poem at
the most basic linguistic level: the letter. At the same time, it sufficiently alters the lexical
structure of the original poem so that when I move on to the next phase of my composition, I am
not overtly influenced by Shakespeare’s semantic content. From that point on, I rearrange the
language, clicking and dragging letter by letter until I am able to rework the text generated by
the anagram engine into a new sonnet in iambic pentameter, with the English rhyme scheme
ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. I try when possible to use the vocabulary supplied by the initial data
as a jumping-off point, though obviously much of it must fall by the wayside in order to meet the
demands of meter and rhyme. The letters that are inevitably left over go to make up the title.”
Any errors, typos, omissions, etc. should be attributed to the editor.
Thank you to Samuel Amadon, Anne Boyer, CAConrad, Shanna Compton, Buck Downs, Paul
Ebenkamp, Graham Foust, Kelly Green, Matt Hart, Forrest MacGregor, Jeff Markey, K. Silem
Mohammad, Guillermo Parra, Nate Pritts, Chris Rizzo, Dominic Schiavo, Evie Shockley,
Carmen Giménez Smith, Sho Sugita, Tippy, and Paul Vargas.
The editor encourages you to distribute this PDF by any means necessary to interested readers.
Email [email protected] with inquiries about The Equalizer.
Visit michaelschiavo.blogspot.com.
[ 375 ]

the equalizer second series

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