Readings in Contemporary Poetry
Bruce Andrews and Nada Gordon
Monday, March 31, 2014, 6:30 pm, Dia Chelsea
Monday, March 31, 2014, 6:30 pm
535 West 22nd Street, 5th Floor
New York City
Introduction by Vincent Katz
Bruce Andrews
Bruce Andrews is an experimental poet, literary theorist, sound designer and recently retired left-wing political science professor. His recent publications include Yessified (Sally’s Edit) (2012) and You Can’t Have Everything . . . Where Would You Put It! (2011).
COMPANY
All together or one at a time?
Other other
Either other
Ricochet on target
As if you were against the wall
Who beats alone
Who gets through
Who was sorry
The end comes before the start
Just just
Hope gets fidgety
So much for getting in the way
Time to choose
I out loud
Come off the shelf
Fasten up the past is coming
Tomorrow just got started
Touchtone
Time just keeps everything from happening all at once
Too much too often
How happy we could have been
Cupid
Bounce by bounce
Slam on the fear
But but but
Panic switch
Is as gone as ever
You’re selfish enough
Other other
Either other
Ricochet on target
As if you were against the wall
Who beats alone
Who gets through
Who was sorry
The end comes before the start
Just just
Hope gets fidgety
So much for getting in the way
Time to choose
I out loud
Come off the shelf
Fasten up the past is coming
Tomorrow just got started
Touchtone
Time just keeps everything from happening all at once
Too much too often
How happy we could have been
Cupid
Bounce by bounce
Slam on the fear
But but but
Panic switch
Is as gone as ever
You’re selfish enough
Nada Gordon
Nada Gordon is the author of seven books, including Vile Lilt (2013) and Scented Rushes (2010). She blogs atululate.blogspot.com.
from PLUSH MACHINE
The subject pools…whiff of
dander. I wrote a gross
bit of big-hat porno.
Maybe I don’t crinkle a seed.
Marxist pope, string of haberdashery,
and a rinsed banana. Raw concern,
and red leather eyeliner.
A rinsed banana near Gowanus
where the fairies prell.
They prell the glowy nights away
sans cesse.
And in the cisterns, the glowy fairies bathe
in glowy prell.
Round panting circle in the middle
of careening thought.
dander. I wrote a gross
bit of big-hat porno.
Maybe I don’t crinkle a seed.
Marxist pope, string of haberdashery,
and a rinsed banana. Raw concern,
and red leather eyeliner.
A rinsed banana near Gowanus
where the fairies prell.
They prell the glowy nights away
sans cesse.
And in the cisterns, the glowy fairies bathe
in glowy prell.
Round panting circle in the middle
of careening thought.