Thanks to Talking Writing for publishing 2 poems in conversation with some art. See the rest on their fine site.

(Day 0)

Math, math, math, math, math, maths. We’re now past the vanishing point and into an aftermath. At first, there’s a fold in the sky. Next, a ghost in the leaves. Finally, a letter. Irradiated wrapping paper dressing up an SOS. My letters fasten lightning rods to our new syntax.

Flat induction antennae. Flat interception umbrellas. Hand-to-hand town. Butterfly more building than. Bottle-at-sea-with-a-handgun-inside.

Communication has become the echo of dissolving planets. Skirt-plummet green. Endgame-white tonguekiss. I design colors for things that don’t have any. Navy blue half-days, salty-red heat spikes, Jurassic-pink rain delays. I distill younger, northeastern summers into lists. Pinecone, Sno-cone, skateboard, comic books, hand job. Glue sticks, warm buzz, laser light, tunnel-fort. Heliotrope extremophile, ocean-trench hand gesture. Dear brand new mainline, dear sentient style, I miss you in the tendons and find you in the absence thereof.

bottle-at-sea-with-a-handgun-inside, M, Maisto, 2015

immanance& math poetry& desire& memory