judgment Listen, I don’t want to be Trojan Horsed or nothin
but yr taste is too canonical to me “Control” by Janet Jackson
is one of the greatest songs in the nation Warm hearts sparkle
in the colonial afternoon Control is a reaction to something
smacking that cracks the future w/ no precedent We call this a
paradigm shift—say we were totally blindsided Janet wants to
take control from her parents From the loss of a first love
Control of the narrative Janet wants to Black Cat in boxy
military garb Janet wants to show you her midriff and introduce
J.Lo to the general public in a few albums and yeah, have
her tits out at the Super (Bowl) in a minute Shock is a kind of
collision A booming confusion The shudder and the shot are
almost indistinguishable Shock has its electric correlate, but is
also itself by what surrounds the event: a quiet dinner party
vs sweaty racing thoughts And what do you make of it My
friend said he found out his crush graduated college in 2014 n
hates himself And I’m like wait til yr my age, thinkin I totally
still look like I’m in my 20s Then it turns out the dude you were
makin out with was born the year Janet, the album, came out
What the literal fudge An hour ago you were singing “That’s
the Way Love Goes” at karaoke In my defense, taller dudes
always look older How to negotiate control and the lack of
control When yr slap hand gets itchy OK whenever anybody
dumps you, just think of them as if a gif of a white dude wilding
out to Wu-Tang in a cardigan then suddenly falling into the
Grand Canyon—Dating is all the way dumb I don’t know what,
if any of this, will reach yr peepers but I want to ask you this
(and I am guilty of making ppl wade thru some bullshit b4
getting to my point): what do you turn to when breath dashes
from yr body like it’s on the lamb? Cindy Crawford says lighting
is everything Take a selfie from the sunblown window Even
supermodels say “lighting” It’s comforting! But there’s also
value in exposing yr engine #BadSelfie Archaic but also so
fresh: self-expression Trust is a thing that guides you thru a
feed The voice like a handshake I’m in front of you There is
paper and a trade-off This is ancient, like pixel drift What’s
under the hood of irritation We call complication a knot A
knotted life that doesn’t get to be undone Who here has a clear,
linear rope? Denial! You have to love yr knots You have 2 shout
them out Curate if need be Janet turns her knots into songs
Sonic beauty (tho fuck beauty) Knot is the response A manager
is like a politician Not the minutiae but the orchestration
The dark forest It’s hard not to inhale The cave is where to
turn when you’ve no other recourse This isn’t a discussion This
isn’t a mandate (lol man date) This isn’t an answer This is a
lineage: Lascaux, Keith Haring, Rihanna How do you draw
breath? In and down Heel to crown Janet says I’m in control n
ends Don’t make me lose it As if she knows what’s to come
The battle of control is in learning to make, and giving it up
This is not abt being the “good” one—that’s boring This is abt
the wrong one, the petty one, the ugly one, the gruff one, Ruff
and Threadbare White waves caught in a loop from microphone
to loudspeaker Returning output to input What’s yr feedback?
Plz spoon it to me as if it’s my business Does it vibrate like
Paula Abdul bumpin in a Janet video? Does it make sense? Can
we just agree—Fuck sense Do you see the blades in the field Do
you see the crust of walnut cream cheese on my crush Do you
see the goopy eyes flash across his face when he finally “sees”
me It’s good to lead with something pastoral, it’s more universal
b/c ppl r always like gravitas and sacrosanct and
pastoral and yesterday Science said We’ve conducted a study
and think medicinal smoke may eliminate certain airborne
bacteria Look Science, NDNs have smudged for thousands of
years Why do you always think you bring the truth? Curate yr
Junk to allow for a close-up I’m aces 2 b spontaneous just give
me time to fix my face first Pretty Little Lyres Bite guard on a
nightstand Insomnia is like hearing cicadas but the cicadas are
yr brain and yr brain is an egg being smashed by time after
time Dummy, once yr not arranging yr Junk to control my interpretation
—you’re becoming So Becoming I want you balls deep
inside me Occupied is a throaty valve of relief filling the room
I’ll make a supersonic manatee out of you UGH so many Junk
words wading in imprecision and then suddenly a weapon Like
“family values” Niqui says “Values? What does that even mean?”
But also family What I’m tussling with is the pathway from
definition to validity Dummy, is this the poem or the essay abt
the poem Pennies fall out of my crotch when I stand up Clap!
Laugh! Must have slipped out of my coin purse when I took the
change from brunch It’s like a diorama of class anxiety What
goes into the display case vs What goes into the Junk drawer
Things that make me want to run: (1) Seeing other ppl run (2)
Eatin a whole pizza (3) Everyone adoring the same person Prove
it says every actor who’s ever been in a police procedural Do
you ever call yr booty “Incorrigible” in the sense that it refuses
to quit? Boner overwhelms the ability to think, says every Hart
Crane poem The journalist at the Moby-Dick exhibit asks
What’s your white whale? And I says to her I says Dick, just like
in the book lol Flight Fight Feed Fuck says my cute, reptilian
brain Relief in the Sense of context: 5 milligrams + 50 dollars =
100 percent sure of Sleep, then 80 > 85 > 50 > 15 percent
What a hypnic jerk The body can acclimate to anything I repeat
Pebble Bubble Fountain three times in the mirror Reading the
news used to make me feel more knowledgeable and in that
way more aware and in that way more powerful Now I just
want to dye (my hair) Flaming asteroid for president 2016 plz
Tinder Grindr Jack’d Scruff OkCupid Adam4Adam Squirt
Surge Manhunt The operative phrase is “dumped” but the operative
feeling isn’t “garbage” bc garbage suggests refusal and I
can be reused I swear All the comments fall in ringlets, like
comets I was going to say Streak but then thought about skid
marks and demurred I stare and shake in the static which is like
a magic eye autostereogram that doesn’t become a turtle or a
saxophone or whatever Until a kind of instinct to re-ho (as in to
become a ho again) kicks in Hey are you Teebs and immediately
I ask Is this a summons I never think I do anything wrong but
people cuss at me from cars No he says I’m yr date Classic case
of someone not looking like their profile pic Oh enough with
slimy love I can’t wait to read all of your breakup tweets All of
your divorce status updates and Instagram calls to respect yr
&n
bsp; privacy Your love is about as relevant as chewed gum under
the table I just flipped I got too drunk to sleep it off says Academia
on the language of Academia The first charming thing
you said to me was that when you walk behind a woman at
night you walk slower farther away so she doesn’t think yr
tryin to run up on her Even do something gay like laugh in that
helio high balloon laugh you laugh How can you claim to respect
life if you don’t also care abt yr enemy If you call them enemy
must be something worthy of yr grace Harry Potter pops into
the discussion strangely as it shd for adults It’s strange to
occupy without investment, to selectively remember, like me
with Harry Potter or most forms of popular culture for that
matter Or like u and NDNs on Thanksgiving Every year I’m
surprised that genocide is an excuse to unfurl America’s shameless
gorging As if gorging isn’t going off whole hog every other
day tbqh Some stuff happened n it’s an occasion for me to stuff
my face, is also a thing I say at a Hunger Games movie Of what
concern is permanence to the poem I let myself Skittle ballpark
nacho Junior Mint Sour Patch Kid buttery fluff n tumble kaleidoscope-like
aswirl on the insides The world finally quiets What
concern is permanence to the poem Giving up candy makes
“one” a boring moron I’m just spitballing here You’ve a whole
entire sunset behind yr fingernails I’ve prayed to every goddess
for a fat ass but if my backside is to be believed: I have no
messiah Meet me in the dogs I’m always in the process of being
dumped but also by my own fantastic imagination which I’ve
been calling my imag-mag Carbon butt print Zan works w/ this
waiter he calls TGI Fridays bc of his wide Chiclet smile & dead
eyes Lol she says she’s a top I think TGI Fridays wants to fuck
me? Blooming onion appletini Yum yum yum mini donuts My
body is accumulating toxins and feelings Coffee, for example, is
convenient pain My bff says poets are the stewards of language
and being a stew-stew of lang-lang, I came up with a new word:
sleeding, which is the body sleeping & bleeding I mean there’s
hearts on my pillow Literally I got a tattoo last night, on my
shoulder of hearts It scabbed over There’s beer, in general An
air of smoke traces the air Sleek finish gel to stiffin yr hair Cake
batter buttercream goops up my skin I want to smell like what
I eat Gimme brains A phone is I beaming into my brain TV is a
screen into the thing I call: phone, heart, brain I googled you in
the rain I see you on the street cross to avoid me We look at
our phones I mean pain Is the disgust at hearing yr own voice
or face in the true mirror or body in the video recording—is that
a body rejecting itself Cute guy on the train looking away or the
shop girl saying You can’t leave yr zine here The shudder postrejection
is a Junky primordial tether Passing wind is the
most hilarious phrase in America I’ve been using the word
aromatic to refer to ideas that unfold like wine I’m at Shake
Shack with Andrew bc cheese fries r the spell of our generation
and I’m lookin to conjure Adele rings the air while singin Purity
is so fascist Everyone is going on a juice cleanse rn I dew love
a diet Quitting is the best feeling The gentle thrill of hooky I
HAVE A JUNKY DIET I swallow all the colors of our omnivorous
rainbow More accurately: I am Kumeyaay As such part of me is
confrontation and part of me (in) denial This is what I call
survival A bulgy dude presses fingertips to hips in front of me
Rocks to and fro Some ppl just need to be told No more often
I’m in every gay love triangle in Brooklyn: I like You, You like
Him, He likes Me: I like tall guys, You prefer blonds, He’s a leg
man We die by the hilt of our turn-ons But the sword tips Just
the tip Who can you talk to the way you talk to yr therapist I’m
not going to just turn down a donut unless sex in the derriere is
comin Everywhere smells like sweaty parmesan and no one
seems bothered but me People often overlook the gravity of the
Erykah Badu lyric, “I’m feelin kinda heavy/cos my high is comin
down” Watchin someone return to their phone with the attn of
a new crush makes me pissed as a port-o-potty Sad Slut Sorry
for Stealing Sixty Cent Stamps from the Post Office this Snowy
Sunday I have no investment in yr sizable manhood except it
looks so good catching moonlight, then my mouth The bananas
are dying and this is not a metaphor Cheaply made is synonymous
with vulnerable to disease, in agricultural terms Homogeneity
breeds blind spots Commercially produced yellow
penis proxies are clones and share the same backdoors How
do you slip into a banana You have to start before it’s born
What peach doesn’t love flesh How long can you keep it 2gether
It falls away It falls away it falls nm too healthy Watermelon
gummies harden in the open air You expect me to tie bananas
into the narrative I expected my Ancestors wd b treated as
human beings Janet says Let’s wait awhile Coil and release
Anger is another biting thing A smooth seething But seductive
for its clarity, like pain Writer Ppl say We’re post narrative, post
characters, post enthusiasm, post structure, post connection,
post meaning I too have the internet She introduces plants to
Janet Jackson Post Postal Post-It Post up Poster Post huh The
scroll is both pre and post page Pages are kind of quaint, no?
Unspool as if a runway on which I walked in the thrift shop At
the time, there were three main industries on the rez (besides,
of course, meth): fire dept, RV park, and the thrift shop Mom
worked at each of them I spent whole ass afternoons among
the busted watches and raggedy Barbies n rolling green candy
bowls Sugar was first cultivated in India the trade became a
major colonial industry I’d parade in faded dress and sweaty
plastic pumps Candy is a simple way 2 make kids behave when
you have three jobs Appetite is explained by simple biology
“Sorry for the genes” is a phrase mom is often fond of saying
You literally can’t argue with Gobstoppers Auntie calmly blinks
“That’s just your way” The dispossessed are denied history
Them hidden things aggregate, like saccharides Thrift shop
smell, to a young fairy formatting normalcy, is basic Not in the
sense of boring but Elemental A thing yr composed of n composing
A face in the mirror makin mirror-face Have you ever
wondered why thrift stores always smell the same? The musk
settles like a dusty comfort feeling Feel the tide of decision swell
in and roll out, never quite catching it It’s defeating, so much
older than I was 15 yrs ago & for a breakup to feel like the first
one Is this time travel? My tolerance is cry baby I would very
much like it Very much beg u dunk yr front Junk into my back
Junk Sober daytime sex is the nakedest It was hotter then Our
bodies aromatic as cracked something Everyone, you said,
knows
their number unless it changes Like losing oodles of
weight or suddenly becoming middle class When things change
hands, their designation depends on intent A riding crop, for
example It’s easy 2 overlook a mass’s deviations n particulars
from the outside I’m saying: strain (in general [to pasta]) The
taste is basic but the mouth feel like a mushroom of foam bed
I finally get haiku Simplicity that exposes its breast bone, the
more uncompounded Tho as Junk I’m less an element n more
the entire periodic table I’m from a place where ppl became
garbage A pile to remove Junk is an upgrade Poverty is like this:
you keep everything until the wheels fall off and then you eat
the wheels I go dull in the dull blast of words Let’s address this
now: being broke is not the same as being poor Poverty is a