"A Bird Bath On The Moon," "American Bricks Struggling With Zeno's Paradox," and "Lamp Worn"
A Bird Bath On The Moon
When Q-Anon’s
local representative
told me Edward Snowden’s
oligarch handlers
revived
the Birds Aren’t Real conspiracy
to mock the bald eagle.
I expected
news of a noticeable
uptick in bird murders
would arrive
with my morning cereal
even though I haven’t
eaten a bowl
since the third grade
when I puked
into my Wheaties.
Since January 6th
there are connections
in the glare of the winter sun
that only exist
after you see them
but as the ground warms
around Q-Anon’s followers
they are addicts
without an organization
to acclimate them
a bird bath on the moon
armed to the teeth
with explosives.
American Bricks Struggling With Paradox
The first brick refuses
to buy a microwave
he says because
of the radiation
but I know his family
owns a toaster oven factory.
The second brick became
internet famous
for getting smashed
over the head
with a vanilla milkshake.
He tried to sell me a bottle
of Iverrmectin autographed
by Joe Rogan
but I don’t
have anything in common
with Matt Walsh.
The fourth brick
has a family history
of being the fourth brick.
Her grandfather was originally
intended for the Berlin Wall
but was redirected
to a blood bank in Detroit.
She refuses to see
the angle of her view
has shifted even though
she’s pivoting from the same place.
I asked her where she learned to moonwalk.
Brick eight sits on the toilet
retweeting Elon Musk.
He claims to be
advocating for free speech
and decentralized banking
but I think he just likes
smelling his own shit.
The sixteenth brick got on a bus
chartered to D.C.
but was left behind in Atlanta
when he went out for a cigarette.
I’m still trying to figure out
how he wound up
being thrown at a cop
in Boston.
Brick thirty-two is a paid informant
he took online swimming classes
when the pandemic hit
but almost drowned
cause his connection sucked.
I told him to adapt
his tin foil hat
to be compatible
with a 5G signal.
Brick sixty-four unwittingly befriended
an alt-right troll while volunteering
at a soup kitchen.
I’ve only ever heard them
talk about addiction.
Brick one twenty eight thinks
he’s doing it for different reasons
than his white separatist friends.
I told him that’s just mental masturbation.
Brick two fifty-six wants
to start a riot so widespread
we have no choice but start over
just so he can say he owned the libs.
He disappeared before I could respond.
Brick five twelve tried
to overthrow the government
but nobody seemed to care
or notice
their numbers have been doubling
for generations.
Lamp Worn
Your next life
will be the bookcase
where you shelve
all your previous selves
it will be easier
to pick up the phone
an audacious voice
will convince you
Ted Danson's hairpiece
is an Ai
programmed to
make all your decisions
in the next episode
cigarettes will taste
like everybody
knows your name
there are plot devices
unfolding
that haven't
been revealed yet
in the coming episodes
memories will gurgle
from the recesses
of your cacophony
your subconscious
will manifest
a petentiometer
field operatives
will tamper
with your belongings
there is a meal set out for the crew
—box lunch with wax apples
the bathroom doors are locked
no one’s sure
who freelancers work for
in your next life you will watch
re-runs of Cheers on your phone
as you commute
the phone number that will conjure
most like muscle memory
in your next life
has started seeping
into the definitions
of the episode
you are currently living
the numbers carry within them
the ability to evoke a pattern
that will bounce around
the trepidatious twitchings
of this cartoon
you seem compelled
to draw yourself into
in the coming days
the dream you’ve been handcuffed to
will show itself
adjacent next seasons
intrepid jackals
in the next episode
rapid eye movement
will increase
Ted Danson's hairpiece
will break free of it’s programming
lamp worn
shadows and glue
radiating the confused frustration
of malignant singular focus
Yelling
Norm! Norm!
Come Back To Your Stool
Norm
You know
we will
find you!
Jeff Taylor lives with his wife and kids in Massachusetts where he is a union worker when he isn’t writing poems. Jeff has performed at universities, theaters, festivals, bars, coffee houses, and sidewalks across the east coast and is a member of the 2023 Lizard Lounge Slam Team. You can find his work in recent issues of The Bloodshed Review, BOMBFIRE, Oddball Magazine, Cajun Mutt, The Alien Buddha Get’s A Real Job vol.2, American Graveyard (Read or Green Books), and The New Generation Beats 2023 Anthology (National Beat Poetry Foundation). Jeff recommends donating to PEN America.
