wake up, rod

Assignment #9, the gauntlet, the proving ground, the bildungsroman, the trial by fire: SOMEWHERE IN FLORIDA VOTES ARE STILL BEING COUNTED. Its simple. Write a political poem. Write a political poem with deference to performance. Write a political poem that's performative, but not pedantic Write a performative political poem that avoids the easy, and avoids the pedantic. Make it something as fun to read on the page as it is to hear. Make it something new. Use any politics. This is it, folks. Due Friday the 13th. If he's not woken up by then, he'll probably go into hibernation.

I'm worried this is damn near unreadable. But I wrote two poems while listening extensively to different dubstep artists, then sorta mashed up the two poems. It's all abstract 'n' shit. But maybe it is a little fun? Who knows. Thought I'd try my hand. It's about dancing in subways. Concurrence (Jellyfish) Chemical orange snaps light, pops fixtures, ripples along metal brackets, coats blacktop grey salt, basalt and flashes of ruby. Move vertically, flex the orbiting percussion through skin. Tripping with a knifey face, the night etches dark raccoon rings around sockets, spreading down squint lines. Red tendrils, rend- ripped jeans gouge slits in sidewalk. Snake chloroform of subway, squeeze into the space between headphone and ear. Recoil against my spine. Bitchassness bustling into the car, tear at the windscreen, fill the car, be fat and happy, be the firestarter, cloak eyes with lids. The jellyfish pulses, rotates, undulates in the stagnant travelled air. Catc...

In between daily arguments, a new part-time job, daily migraines, managing a visiting ex-boyfriend, etc. - well, let's just say over the last few days my online presence has somewhat diminished. Yet, I am unfailing in my commitment to this blog. So much so that I will get to work as soon as my work commitment for the evening is done. Peace. Love. Good Vibrations. -B.