Remote Actions
by John Lowther
The strike starts the poem and dispenses luck
around
Words turn
and start lining up
The elbow is a patrolled edge—take it
and another less with the seeing, more
with the getting
Until there is nothing
Left.
No common pool to the left
Only paid seeps to the
Right. mysteriously against those who
The poem starts the mass strike, like an eight on
the break.
Descant not waiting here all day in the hallway
Honey knees are packed. Saddle eyes
It’s a long haul way back
but this looks nothing like what hours are. Days.
I can make minutes feel. Disem
Powered. Rails converge and skinny trains
play tug with a noose.
A nest of bees looks empty
flatfoot and declarative
Theatrical architecture where no other notes are
allowed.
palliative to the test.
Imagine there is no welcoming Commune.
No 3.
What. are you thinking
Blue jeans
A tax.
Everything feeds
going on life with a second
Minute.
Trunks sneaking up with PhDs
Like aspirin in the ram
Takingout Trash
nip.
No business like show business.
This inky eye (
what do you ink?)The ink do you want dry,
Hear half sum.
Why do you laugh?
a balloon trying to climb a mountain of ice on ice
skates.
Liner on the notion, optioning anchors
In a line is a way of saying back off
When you have ghosts smuggled up the stairs
All of Wednesday behind you.
Go to hell with your metaphors.
~
Laughs are rooms, whispers the way out
Not loading lens with it
Nailes into keys, a tapped
Note.
Includes the bill and the back way out
Eleven thirty five pants on fire
From the nudes at church church. Tapping gnot a
tone towards.
flaming horshwhip Negativity up the railing
heretofore uncly
deemed
hopelepoh
Like trick transit on
gesturing saidways. sins sem sauce.
It is not my fault, save in failing it, not saying it
Touchy Stealy. You are hearing me but I am only
talking.
Do you like the arrangments so far?
My cloudlines are low with socks and lines on them
footnotes nothing really.
Do you like the arrangement so far. That’s my
pointer.
Away, where it started with, or already I am
doubting.
Trim it up like stone. Can’t see the body from here
anyway. This mere is mere and not reflective,
shorn
Torn, of context forlorn just becauze. Candles.
Steak knife rips through bill. Property is theft
Eight Ninety-Nine but Thirteen w.postage
like a salesman in front of it.
Fattening affect.
Hawk my mutter. WWI. What do I owe.
The banality of deeds like cheeze
sticks to the wrapper of an egg mcmuffin
built into the leviathon.
Public meat for punk. No
poem so much as prison standoff.
There wd have to be smiley fancing
for our learning steps___ tires squeaking
distantly and then again
and an engine. Not now!
Cops are breaking in.
Going back to cut the tape is key.
Don’t situation comedy me.
led by beepers, or at least
honed as user patron client consumer subject
held by / alien in
Weight-like steam shovel your spinal larnyx
making bills
You have expeditious slush
A new
It. Fractured my skull thinking about
It.
fuck off the stamp, throw the postcard away.
Outlaw Ballad #9
Good. The half sent born
wasting previous thin minutes
seen and not heard.
Wallow if you must he’d say.
Holding the candle
Cynical gravitas, shovel some crap
Corrected putterance, getting head
ache in the convertible
anime muscle spasm recidivist modem ant.
I let them in when they said that.
nothing worse than modern art.
My porch hat on tornadoes.
Needle drop inn. a gin.
After museums.
Gunned down in the street.
Grand Theory of Nope
Stepping prompt and turn and swing
pulling laws is when
around the corner
dim bells top plank to, a pace of umpires
hostage license application procedures
kickback hotel liason
><
And if not, why not? Hiatus
Someone said their wouldbe
Hiatus upon hiatus’ yet to
bamboozle any seats.
Hunching shameless for corner traffic
So convinced to want to not to disbelieve
but nope.
Elsewhere is fine. Elsewhere is more than adequate
to the shape
and will cover shipping
Practicing my blue words for urban mythology
Which I have to on the way to the bank.
Stopping off gravy. Flow my tears Please
But when falling we tend to go down. To
Up on hopes I am the diagnosis of
A cheesecake at room temperature
You’ve seen all this before. Like famed roadside
attractions
Glitz and eats and tshirts popcorn cassette tapes
Country favorites rotating hotdogs on a warming
conveyance to their immodest end
Curs on the by way. Cultures in a pear tree dish
sucking signal from the sky.
Elsewhere is fine, elsewhere is a peach.
copyright © 2008 John Lowther
John Lowther is a member of the Atlanta Poets Group. His work has appeared widely in both print and online and has been anthologized in Another South (University of Alabama Press). He is a curator at Eyedrum Gallery in Atlanta.
