#Civild­is­con­ve­nience

Geist - - Findings - GE­ORGE MUR­RAY

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.

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