From Diversion. Published by ECW in 2015. George Murray is the author of seven books of poetry, including Whiteout and Glimpse: Selected Aphorisms. He is the editor of Newpoetry.ca.
What if Revelations had been called Revolutions? Hang on a second while I google this. Jesus laughed. Fire breaks through the smoke the way sun breaks through the fog. Quiet as an option silently dies. Unforgettable facts wedge themselves like stains between our bedsheets. Prayer’s tinny voice squawks from an analog phone.
Most rioters eventually get distracted by mirrors.
I’d take the calm before the storm if it meant having any calm whatsofuckingever. There are levels of speechless we haven’t yet discovered. Wanking is the other white meat of art. The forecast follows the fearcast. Horror becomes the state one occupies when seeing oneself quoted in the news. Marginalia declared autonomy and formed a state. People in the suburbs suffer from Stock Home Syndrome. Who dares enjoy themselves anymore? Remember to thank Christ you don’t have to get off your couch. Saying things gets only saying done. Flames paint outer walls red the way televisions paint inner walls blue. Down-the-way is where news happens. Pluck the bricks flying by to rebuild your house. Listen for the constant exposition of a man sure he’s nailing a date. We have the right to demand boredom. Lassie keeps barking about how much Timmy likes it down the well. Sadness retains its title as anger’s most widespread illusion. It’s become apparent your fantasies just aren’t interesting enough. Civil unrest always evolves into parties. Police hunch over coffee with their heads bowed and gun hands twitching. Rows of driveways straight as bars on windows. A Streetcar Named Covet. I just realized my dick and head both loll the same way when tired. Dollarama looted but the bookstore left untouched. Staff the barricades! We used to say don’t go into the woods whereas now we say don’t read the comments. Cave wall shadows only work if there’s a fire.
It appears that decimate now means to reduce by a factor of holy fuck.
Can anyone tell whether it’s kindness or malice that’s reached homeopathic levels? Allow me to apologize in advance for my humanity.
Type that line as though something depended on it.
Your door rattles in the jamb but the lock is sturdy and continues to hold.
The armchair uprising has begun.