Last week I asked some people to spam their friends and, with them having done so (thanks, them), it seems now like a good time to launch into a phase new.
So, now, any new piece that we write will debut on Wednesday nights, right around 8 O’Clock, so that you can follow along as it is read aloud, to you by its author, in studio or by phone or by avatar, on Boston Free Radio. You can TuneIn, stream at bostonfreeradio.com, or do whatever you’re privy to.
Establishing Capture
New York 2/13/16
by Rob Rice
I.
Mill and machine into
Inclusion’s round logic
Those little crescent shavings
Don’t inhale them
The broadness of it
Its yellow-grey lights the sidewalk
Which is rough and sandy when
It’s broad daylight
And where does the crime come in
Inextricable recondite tertiary crimes
The beam of sidewalk
Some side street’s grey girder
Some crime dripped all over it
And was collected in cups?
Balanced on his feet
In broad strokes
(He said)
Look at me
But don’t look at me
But look at me
Look at me
I can’t have this
This not looking at me
You’re doing
I’m the parade for these pants
II.
And you want to be taken home
You brat
Everyone’s looking at you
In your bonnet and sack
You’re such babies
You’re dead
You’re dead moose
Your last moment, seeing yourself mounted
You’re sold as atmosphere
To hover over the haute meal
Where they’re “still thinking”
Clean kitchen
Clean kitchen
It’s a constant fight for balance
You wanting the sick from the cleaning products
And me the dirty surfaces
III.
Spinning in
A cream enters the rotating basin
Of chocolate and is absorbed by
Eminent domain
As a formality
Or begrudging for a moment a salve of affect
Bactericidal balm at the scar line
And leave me back here wandering
Ein kinder roaming
Waist high grasslands on the moon
Which are bound by physics/the definite need for water
Endless, even generations of water
Still silver sliver of moon
Its blue edges swishing
Anemone
IIII.
Wake up and use energy, valuably, ever?
Why do you think of your hands as a different person
Go away
And be thankful the sea was so exhausted
It bowed and accepted of
What would have otherwise been
Unwieldy
Piles of former kipsy
I feel a bit of resistance or occlusion
On your part
And it treats me to the threat of all this’ ending
Ictal
IIII.
I’d like a snug answer
Satisfying like the massacre of an ant hill
Gods
Martyrs
Kids
Less tragic tragedy
You’re relatively embarrassing to mourn
IIII I.
Sleep celebrity
Make out artist
Makes a killing
Slimy eek
Bottling public trust water for profit
Better than better!
Bigger is back!
Bigger is new!
And better is now free!
IIII II.
You have critically contaminated the experiment
Hence the pending eviction from your share
Leave me alone with that little anencephalic pout
Why is it grounds for a photo?
I have a miserably feeble language
Such that
I feel aimless and acting when I think
It’s like hard air, everywhere
Substance.all.block
Like the plumbing that formerly scored the city
Rafters, baffles, cowl, sweeps, wye
Were started in on by cement at the source
The disciplined
Assault themselves
Purposing deliberate miscalculation of your banality
/Your permissive rearing and allowance
/Your defiance to a bringing out broadness
As kenosis
