what toilet moments wherein
what toilet moments wherein
the soul music, muzak'd by this second hotel
same as the first, &, like all workplaces of circulation
increasingly plentiful of objects, increasingly empty
of workpeople, whereafter I will
fail at stealing the rolls bc of they locking mechanism
& my limited commitment to the operation
during these, moments that is, we are texting
which is almost all the work I do atm
& in this I claim the title poet
(neither profession nor status which
ought be sustained should the common come)
tho it is not the same to hit send
as it is to break a line, except that each
hold the recipient in a kind of suspense
like an ass hovering between wipes while
we check out our shit for blood, which is to say
to check how counter-insurgent the digestive tract is today
the poem—which ought be more notorious
for countervailing against insurgency than the opposite
but which some of us in favor of insurgence
nonetheless maintain a romantic attachment to
a fact that is neither good nor bad per se,
but probably is just okay—""the poem is a work of
fart in the age of biotechnological reproduction,""
I think, before I call by my gastroenterological pharmacist
to sort out whether the drugs are $800 or $160 a dose
the soul music, muzak'd by this second hotel
same as the first, &, like all workplaces of circulation
increasingly plentiful of objects, increasingly empty
of workpeople, whereafter I will
fail at stealing the rolls bc of they locking mechanism
& my limited commitment to the operation
during these, moments that is, we are texting
which is almost all the work I do atm
& in this I claim the title poet
(neither profession nor status which
ought be sustained should the common come)
tho it is not the same to hit send
as it is to break a line, except that each
hold the recipient in a kind of suspense
like an ass hovering between wipes while
we check out our shit for blood, which is to say
to check how counter-insurgent the digestive tract is today
the poem—which ought be more notorious
for countervailing against insurgency than the opposite
but which some of us in favor of insurgence
nonetheless maintain a romantic attachment to
a fact that is neither good nor bad per se,
but probably is just okay—""the poem is a work of
fart in the age of biotechnological reproduction,""
I think, before I call by my gastroenterological pharmacist
to sort out whether the drugs are $800 or $160 a dose
Julian Francis Park lives in Oakland and writes poems, narrative, literary criticism, and social theory. J co-facilitates the pseudo-weekly writing workshop, “Writing with world stuff" and is involved in a variety of tenants' movement projects.