Tag Archives: death

2 Poems by Key MacFarlane

An alumnus of Colgate University, Key is currently working at an environmental consulting firm in Baltimore, Maryland. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Full of Crow, Eunoia Review, and Sleet Magazine.

News Feed (Internet Death)

 

Pretty sure my dishwater is broken again

Does anyone know where I can get one cheap?

What does it sound like?

Do the plates clash around or do they fill

With rotting fluids?

Maybe run it on one cycle after all

Famar Volat. I think.

Sorority sisters take vacations

And I am very excited to see Ford again, alone this time

Even my blind grandmother would have thrown a flag at that one

Move on man

Get a better job

Because “In a completely sane world, madness is the only freedom!”

Yeah, a little outdated but you can still read his books here

For free tonight at 8pm in the old courtyard

Next to the arcade (Ford was here)

They’ll be square dancing:

Dude we were so hammered that night

Look at the girl passed out on the floor

I know her from somewhere…

Somewhere stones meet stones and fall unbruised

Across many time zones and video clips

I admit this made me laugh for hours in England

May he rest in peace, much too soon

It came to me unformed, an ancient gesture—

Some sepulcher of restaurant reviews

We bury Ford on Monday, donations taken here

And our thoughts

Yes our thoughts too

Moving across the globe today! Wish us good luck!

Break a keg Billy

Haha I guess those pictures are still up

Aren’t they?

Who’s to take them down?

I think “art is pun” or something I found

Like when life gives you lemons

Or some other iteration

Jesus!

I’m telling you I only like limes and said it first

We agree with your assumption completely and completely

Sympathize with your choice of outerwear!

Do those boots come in indigo?

Well it does get cold sometimes in San Diego and I have to…

Look at this cat and this cat and this cat has my same eyes

I want you to know this in case

You ever have to piece me back together

I miss you dearly – at Pub Dog Pizza and Drafthouse.

 

 

 

Exchange Value

 

All electronic encryptions

Lose their beginnings—

Don’t think you could read this

Alone, or could hope to find me

Again, you could always rewind

And find me again—

The cane is in fashion again these days,

They say, we wear taqiyah on Tuesdays

And stroll about aimlessly—to a place

Where moments are traded as hyperlinks

And you can find each of me

On the same plane, hijacked (I am told)

It was all very democratic—

Don’t you see?

Or have my stitches dissolved in your nectar, the fractals of

memories and half-F thoughts

the veiled currency is used

everywhere the banker can get

away with anything these days—

And so can I—

 

 

 

 Key MacFarlane

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‘Basashi is Horse Sushi. This is when I learned’ by Robert C Holzhausen

Basashi is Horse Sushi. This is when I learned.

The last vortex at the end of days
clotted 1,000 feet high
and threw upward some 30,000 leaves
and a shit ton more droplets of water.
It burped 600 tin sheets
and rattled towards us like a homemade buzz-saw.
The world was a vacuum.
The world was agoraphobic.
God made it
and he made it so
and it was ripping itself apart.
It was ripping the world
into halls of junior high schools
filled with paper footballs and Noxema,
Prophylactics and body spray.
New shirts and shoulder bags
housing hash pipes wrapped in socks,
Marlboro lights
and the occasional can of Coke Classic.
We laid down in the tree house
and counted chips in the ply wood.
We looked at them and used them in stories.
You showed me one
of your dog when you were 9.
You showed me his funeral.
We heard Mama in the yard below.
“Take this away from us!
Rise it Lord! Rise it Lord!
Take it away from us Lord.
Take it Lord. Take it Lord. Take it Lord.
Take it away from us Jesus.”
She spoke some in tongues.
We talked of Secretariat and Sham.
I wondered if this was it
or if I’d see Dad at the Derby this spring.
I wondered where he was
and if twisters were there too.
I thought about all them horses.
The thoroughbreds
buried beneath a barn’s remains.
All those thoroughbreds vying for horse immortality
and a triple crown.
I worried about their bodies
after they died.
You told me about basashi
and how it was sushi but with horse.
How it was good
even though you thought it wouldn’t be.
We talked about eating Secretariat and Sham.
Animal Kingdom.
Man O’ War and Holy Bull.
Seattle Slew and Affirmed.
Native Dancer.
We’d eat the whole derby,
so long as it wasn’t us putting em down.
So long as their heads got clubbed
by some unlucky board
or their brains blown cause a cracked hoof.
We’d be happy to eat any of ‘em,
raw, rare or otherwise.
Mama kept prayin.
“Take this away from our home!
As you did for Elijah.
Take it up away from my home.
Take it away from this town.
Take this funnel away from us lord!”
The tree swayed and cracked.
We talked of ginger and wasabi.

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Image Macro by Meta Knight

irl_is_dead.png, Meta Knight, more here at this highly enjoyable blog

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