On screen, nothing exists except the realized combination
—Loss Glazier
What about gain of audio? OK, not yet.
Well, hello there, fellow madness.
We’re in the same space.
Did you see that man who burgled a house, drew his own mask?
Did you do as I told you?
Did you know, there’s nothing more intimate than being truly seen?
Look at this reckless idiot.
We’re in the present, I mean.
I highly recommend Nancy Friday.
I told you when I came I was a stranger.
Oh, I’m familiar with that, I assure you.
The face of Jesus in a KitKat.
We’re ill-met, I’m sure it mattered how. Ordained, my brother.
Be Alice Notley’s owl.
I once got a foot job under the table.
Do you feel a bit refugial?
I don’t know how we made it this far, dear.
I think there’s much in The Piano Teacher that you’d like.
Without losing at least an ear.
I like calling cops the fuzz.
Knowledge of the past is needed continuously to. . .
I was like a radar for sex scenes in books when I was little. Would read them first.
To deduce future behavior.
Look at this goat arrested for armed robbery.
It takes a while for me to rest my head in a woman’s lap.
What about this emu in handcuffs?
Look at these idiots who let a huge metal ball smash their window when moving house.
If I know it, does that mean I can’t forget it?
I’ll take you camping. Or to a Motel 6.
Shoplifter stole lingerie and bacon.
Never be satisfied in the way things are.
There’s a mirror reflection of closed figure-eight feedback.
I want to see one thing. Your face.
Squirrels are getting detonated in Spokane.
Guess what I am?
Here’s a list of my worst words: natch, yearn, globule, smell, lordy lordy.
You’ll see it
From the BBC: Government reshuffle. “Nutt faces Sack.”
You’re half my conversation that’s what you are.
Can I tell you about my special ab-crunch?
Check out these suntanning orange walruses.
You’re half my conversation.
I run in a place where there are trees. Where there should not be trees.
Half a letter.
Bret Michaels said “I will endanger my life to pleasure a woman.”
Jesus my frame hurts
Hate reverse cowgirl.
Have you seen the aerials, the vista I look at most days?
Feed-ahead loop of past-future.
Always hidden, your nods.
I must take myself to bed and eat a frozen banana.
One person’s behavior reflects/depends on the other.
You realize you’re not completing sentences here, right?
I hate that word, slobbering, let’s not ever use it.
I could send you photos of the haircut I envisage.
Look at this website for women who write dinosaur erotica.
Ni to ta to you.
If you predict my behavior, I might deliberately alter the course of the future.
What I want to see then is your face
Perfect. I’ve written a secret novel, Cunnilingosaurus.
Imagine if we had a plan.
It’s about a creature with a very long tongue that pleasures women throughout history.
A kind of a time travel story.
Let’s not do a negative series of actions.
I’m listening to Berlioz.
I may perform as predicted, but in an altered sequence.
Backtrack if you like.
You’re listening to Sleeping With the Enemy.
I’ll project the behavior you expect from me.
True, true, I am, I do.
On to you.
Look at this photo of a real live jackass.
Does it mean we’re doomed?
I bet your last message will be so “brutal”
Here, a video
With consequence, with hands. Hands that augur
A collaboration.
After all, love is built on banal things.
I am so pleased to meet you, but I will be very sorry for us.
Jane Lewty is the author of Bravura Cool (1913 Press: 2013) chosen by Fanny Howe as the winner of the 1913 First Book Prize in 2011. Recent poems have appeared in Bone Bouquet, TYPO and Tarpaulin Sky.