Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2015  v14n1
an online journal of literature and the arts
 print preview


All my favorite singers sound like modems.
I intend this to be read as a loving observation
the same way an aging mechanic lifts the engine
from the torso of his Cutlass Supreme

& sends it off to become someone else’s future.
Which is to say, coolly, I know what time it is.
All my favorite singers sample dead legends
& let the spirit speak in HD:

Heathen’s Desire, Holy Diffraction
the only difference worth noting
is whether you want your body
to be something it is not or someplace

it has never been when the synth-laden outro
begins. Whether you do or do not believe
that freaky cyborgs are indeed amongst us
when the bass kicks you upside the knees

like a little brother testing his legs, his luck,
your love. All my favorite singers tend to refrain
from using terms like love un-ironically,
which could be read as a way of distancing

what we came here for or what we built
this petulant hunger from. Zapp & Roger
hum Compuuuter Luuuuuuv & I don’t
imagine another person on the end

of another screen, blowing emoji kisses at me
from across the distance, but a glowing Xbox
One, my first iPhone, this smooth, black alphabet
full of wires & light, lying to my escapist

heart, daring this flesh to be its own
system of stars & gas giants, unfurl into the slick
ether like so much cellophane, everywhere
& nowhere I have ever wanted to be.  end  

return to top