Seven Poems
[If dog is precipitate]
Of so-called princess shell, dog takes the carbon and shits
Dog believes history; shit before princess
and visa verso.
This is purpose, this
will not reduce:
dog
history
carbon princess shell purpose shit.
This is extraction—
Dog accepts “ball”
of shell-frag (digested)
that is, de-purposed (i.e., shit).
Here is the full on purpose shit-frag historic
princess lyric-shell gastronomy cycle
while dog, a poem, shits.
[If dog is a star]
Add dog to princess make star
Subtract dog from star get dog-star
Unfortunately. The bangdeed is already supernovas
[If dog is dog]
Nothing, seven times.
[Look]
I just — my body and lowercase
briefcase just go together! It’s just — my bodycase
goes and lowers briefcase together. It’s just my
body lows, brief and go-getter. I love mechanical cranes!
Meaning, I don’t — live inside that case anymore
Meaning, I haven’t — in that case anymore
will not — anymore
had not — more
Now look away — case closed!
I love mechanical cranes!
[In the box]
In the box I am a little boy. All the little girls
are speaking up. I am a little
box with the glow of a boy and all the little
girls are speaking up all around. Little
do they, boy, know — for now!
Boy boy — for now!
Bye bye — death comes later!
[Hazmat suit]
Never did I ever wear a corporate hazmat suit and get it off me — I put it on — in my belligerent posture — the way I send an email — it gets belligerenter — the little girls arrive and wait for me — to start the meeting — I have to write inside of this hazmat suit — it takes a long time — to pretend to get it off of me — the little girls stand at the coffee machine — to watch me — am I little girls — inside this hazmat suit — watching me — the imaginary carafe — of all outfits — are little girls girls —
Once I wore a hazmat suit — and never did I ever get it off of me —
[Quantum steps]
What’s the date, time-button?
Ours laughs the sky off its witness
stand in mirrors. There it is again
The blind mirror. Each of us is surveilled
behind the vanity of flat technologies. I need to forget
so I super-merge with “me” between 12 and 3. Time
ovulates, obfuscates, new body’s derived
from the copy of a photon devilish I have
created meaning with it. Sutures. To the future.
Not meaning ion is to forget, meaning
I on the only way to make meaning
is forgetting itself. Like surfaces, instructions
I forgot them. That’s how. And when I get this soul,
forget it. It could be so easy
∩
Zoe Darsee was born around noon on a Tuesday. They are the author of BELL LOGIC (Spiral Editions, 2022) and Anzündkind (Creative Writing Department, 2023). Their collaboration with Elise Houcek, a lysergic neo-noir poet’s novel, is forthcoming. Together with Nadia Marcus, they run TABLOID Press. This work continues.