130.1: Kara Imre:: 8-legged religion [in time travel] & deep sea chemistry & tricky galaxy 130

After ten years without, I recently got cable, a boon of a move. It’s not real cable—no pay networks—and it’s piped in from my landlord’s through a curiously legal coaxial connection. Some channels come in, some don’t. The ones that do snow in and out, flickering into sharp relief before, again, the image departs. For a moment, there is E!. Kim Kardashian argues with one of her sisters. I change the channel. One of the guys from American Pickers haggles over a porcelain, double-sided Austin Healey dealership sign. And then, nothing. Just whiteness. I could get up, jiggle the line, but why would I? These flashes offer something brilliant and when forced to consider the patchwork as a whole, something holy. Kara Imre’s selection this week reminded me of the same. We are confronted daily with pieces of media, snippets from here, a shared article there. It is easy to lose ourselves in the seeming mess of it, its randomness. However, these poems move through curious connections, related by phrase or sound, and as the focus moves from micro to macro, they offer us something greater, something bigger, something beautiful. An image flickers in and holds. Briefly, in our hands, we grasp a stone of snow before it melts away again. Nik De Dominic

8-legged religion [in time travel]

when I dream         of jungles   and octopi           my freckles give       everything
comes up tentacles     it’s not a mystery     the rabbi feels out of place     the rabbits
more in tact        is that a sign       I can’t recall        just long for less cordless
things          that eventually hatch        the fact’s fiction       the average human
dream      lasts   only 2 to 3 seconds
     Snapple lied        I was in that jade for
days    the trees called me green    midget        look at me fidgeting again    to be
little again       when I made a living         wading in waiting     for that 54”
requirement        MUST BE THIS TALL TO RIDE     I was always too
small       too small       too small      to fly     so today in the terrain     in a bed-
turned-train         I hover undercover        my mind    soars past
         the coasters         and I just climb the coast.

deep sea chemistry

a creature called me from the tree-tops      now look you have gone and caused a
               when did America ask for talking birds          when
did my nightstand have a question about science         I am getting a bicycle for my
birthday       to pedal forward for a change       tell me       was it in the corn
maze we got lost     or was that our stalky hearts        like shark week thoughts
      we were talking sharply     saying shall we                      in front of the T.V.
covered in spider webs                                our autumn antenna seems off-balance
                                 hello   operator                          give me number

tricky galaxy

CNN says there’s a tsunami on the sun     who decided to spell tsunami        like
tsunami       it makes me forget it’s a treacherous treacherous thing     stormy
says the dictionary         I wonder     would the light come down in waves then?
       time to surf without a surfboard           meet the origami folding yacht
‘the Situation’ pens a self-help book       cocaine is found in bologna in Holyoke
       dare:               go out into the balmy weather           and find
someone to blame                        tinted windows don’t mean nothing
              they know who’s inside.