Friday, July 24, 2009


a poem

i am in think coffee trying to write

it is not working

i am listening to guided by voices on shuffle

i feel bad for not buying anything here

i think i have mustard somewhere on my face


  1. The aesthetic you have been tinkering with this summer has self-consciously teetered on the edge of absolute triteness- at times more endearing for it. This is too far. This poem, unlike I'M SORRY, and GCHAT, has brought me no further past the initial distaste I spoke of before. I feel that I want to telly you what to do all of a sudden, and moreso as a person, rather than as an artist. This in itself might be an uncommon reaction to a poem. Does the work of a speaker who needs to get a life need to get a life? Here I am betraying myself again.

  2. hey erik,

    forgive me for pursuing an aesthetic 'teetering on the edge of absolute triteness.' the poem, for me, does not so much reside in the 'content' of 'always crush me' as much as in the SPACE that contains it. the poetry--this is what i am trying for--is not so much verbal as filmic or something. for me, 'always crush me' happens alongside the poem proper, your comment, this comment, my tags for the poem (POSTED BY ALEC NIEDENTHAL STUFF: ASIAN MEN AWAKENING, ASIAN MEN BOBBING THEIR HEADS ALONG WITH "GIMME SHELTER" AND THEN FALLING ASLEEP, ASIAN MEN FALLING ASLEEP), your 'initial distaste,' and still, in spite and consequence of this 'radar' we have established, it cannot be located, or otherwise said, i wish not to locate it.

  3. that said, i agree that this is a failed poem.