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ssemblage

All writing and media on this blog, unless otherwise credited, was created by and is owned by Tomas Boudreau and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Re-blogging with credit is encouraged.

Art Sonarret

1. K is writing with a green pencil. The symbols A.W.FABERCASTELL9000F are printed in silver on its stem 2. $3 buys K an entry ticket to the cafe where she can be seen writing and reading 3. Anarchism does not need theory 4. All K has to do is say ‘Americano’ and exchange her 3 dollar coins for an entry ticket 5. K does not care what authors you read, K wants none of it 6. While the word ‘stem’ is vaginal, is gynocentric, in the way that ‘tube’ in ‘fallopian tube’ is vaginal and gynocentric, the word ‘shaft’ can only be phallocentric 7. K writes her name ‘K’ even though it is pronounced ‘Kera’ and should be spelled ‘Kera’ 8. There is a folded marble in my stomach that I sometimes crawl into, and inside that marble no light can enter and all I hear is the sound of my hair and fingernails growing and there are no other sounds than those, and when I am inside the marble any future anterior that I may face is illusory in the moment, and if I could only learn to hold my breath for long enough I would never have to leave the marble, I would never have to face what is illusory one moment, but what would crush me in the next 9. K is a deep sea creature, an underwater thing, that only eats once a century and is often mistaken for a plant 10. All accidental qualities were removed and everything remained the same 11. The ethos of the nightclub was an x-ray machine and I could see that my friends were skeletons with bits of meat here and there and I hoped, no, I prayed that as a species they wouldn’t see another millennia 12. Upon closing the book it said to me, I am finished, you have finished me

Glossolalia at Midnight

1. Because I woke up in the dead of night chewing a three hour long sentence to pulp, chattering something about jawless men chasing me, rambling, droning on about many-faced crocodiles snapping at my heels, grinding, chewing, masticating a three hour long sentence, the content being about plastic feelings, rambling, droning on, waking up in the dead of night 2. Because peacetime did not ruin wartime, no, it was wartime that ruined peacetime 3. Because the hospital had problems with flooding and decided to run the new plumbing where my bed was but I refused to move, even for the goodlookin’ nurse who made me feel so desexed whenever she bathed me, and so they resolved the problem by running the new plumbing right up my ass and outta my mouth, and now I will spend the rest of my days blinking, stoned, and desexed with everyone’s shit and piss and blood piping through my stomach 4. Because I will spend my last days writing one-off poems to everyone I have ever known and they will not love me for it but I will love them dearly 5. Because I wish I had taken more photos of the places I have lived—just the places, documenting what I had on the walls and the configuration of the furniture this way or that way 6. Because I was given a name and I alone knew this name and was told that one day that name would be called, but only once, and I would burden the name no more 7. Because ‘A pen is like a viper’ is a powerful simile yet ‘A pen is like a pencil’ does not work as a simile 8. Because a rabbi, a priest, and punchline walk into a bar 9. Because I could not find my left shoe I sat on the living room carpet and did not go outside that day, I did not play at the park that day, I did not 10. Because I drank all afternoon, because I did not go to work, because I did not fall asleep when day turned into night and back again, because I did not go to work, because I drank all afternoon, because I did not leave the house that day 11. Because I love my friends and I love my family and my love has undone me there, upon the stairs, the moment the moment was no longer a moment but a metronome encased in a frozen ocean and all the ships married to the sea could not find wind to fill their sails and stopped thus, and all things stopped thus 12. Because, because…you will be the toxin buried in my liver

Open Call For Submissions

infraread:

Submit poetry, prose, and everything in between to us. We will publish it on our blog.

We look forward to hearing from you.

-The Inframantics