Mark Cunningham
3 poems
**
[specimen]
The moon and my bar of soap show the scars of various impacts. Lacan points out that you can detect the presence of the unconscious mind in the interruptions and blanks in conscious thought or speech. We stepped on the black mat and the door didn’t swing open, so we just pushed it and went it. No entrance can be dead.
**
[specimen]
There’s the idea of a tree in my head, but in the reflection of my head there’s a real tree. I was supposed to read out loud Artaud’s sentence, "What voluntary breathing brings about is a spontaneous reappearance of life," but I got on stage, took a deep breath, and forgot my line. The appendix is a numb tongue. The tongue is a fine ear: shut your mouth and you can’t hear as well.
**
[specimen]
The plants were mutating at a rate of one new species every twelve hours, and our "I am rubber, you are glue" defense was starting to falter. I’m not tapping my fingers in time with the country music: the injection of spider cells is finally taking hold. Among our demands was a more precise definition of "inedible." Gesturing to the horizon, he asked if I saw any other person here on the steppe and seemed non-plussed when I said, "one."
**
return to sawbuck 4.3
**
Mark Cunningham has three books out: Body Language from Tarpaulin Sky Press, 80 Beetles from Otoliths, and 71 Leaves, an ebook from BlazeVOX. Lamination Colony has recently posted a chapbook titled Georgic, with Eclogues for Interrogators.
**
[specimen]
The moon and my bar of soap show the scars of various impacts. Lacan points out that you can detect the presence of the unconscious mind in the interruptions and blanks in conscious thought or speech. We stepped on the black mat and the door didn’t swing open, so we just pushed it and went it. No entrance can be dead.
**
[specimen]
There’s the idea of a tree in my head, but in the reflection of my head there’s a real tree. I was supposed to read out loud Artaud’s sentence, "What voluntary breathing brings about is a spontaneous reappearance of life," but I got on stage, took a deep breath, and forgot my line. The appendix is a numb tongue. The tongue is a fine ear: shut your mouth and you can’t hear as well.
**
[specimen]
The plants were mutating at a rate of one new species every twelve hours, and our "I am rubber, you are glue" defense was starting to falter. I’m not tapping my fingers in time with the country music: the injection of spider cells is finally taking hold. Among our demands was a more precise definition of "inedible." Gesturing to the horizon, he asked if I saw any other person here on the steppe and seemed non-plussed when I said, "one."
**
return to sawbuck 4.3
**
Mark Cunningham has three books out: Body Language from Tarpaulin Sky Press, 80 Beetles from Otoliths, and 71 Leaves, an ebook from BlazeVOX. Lamination Colony has recently posted a chapbook titled Georgic, with Eclogues for Interrogators.
Labels: 4.3, fall 2010, mark cunningham
