NPM #5 (Seen)

The commenter lols at Bree Olsen,
former actress, pictured crying
can’t get a job—what’d she expect

yeah, some women capital-L Like it, FWIW
—what’s it matter? The patter of hands
beating on a window somewhere.

I suppose all that
will be read: the threads, the history
what I wanted to see

but not what I muttered
walking behind the young woman
in a swimsuit that day.

SCREAM CAPS / HABITation

 

Teething wisdom, the citizenry can’t stop /

won’t stop chattering and boxing their ears.

There are no scandals—the sine wave

flat.

 

                                  I imagine the Borg

edge on hard-core in their alcoves, relent

solely to materialize violence. Today

I try to write a poem and pleasure

fissures a blank.

 

                                                           Fed

feelings. Fed struggle. Fed thought. Fed

potential. On dark nights Janet Jackson

meditates. She envisions a colourless

spaceship. She and her brother

scream.

Neo-lullaby by Bardia Sinaee

for Jeff Blackman (me)

Napoleon Bonaparte. Atilla the hun.
Coffee and cigarettes give you the runs.
George Walker Bush and Stephen J. Harper.
Plain cotton Dockers to make you look sharper.

Rohani’s untested. Assad is an ass.
Your future’s invested in sarin nerve gas.
Obama’s a saviour. Obama’s a liar.
Your wife’s on the fritz and your baby got fired.

They’ll drown out your whistle with sirens and horns.
NetMums will know if you’re surfing for porn.
Saddam is still hanging. Bin Laden’s gone deep.
You’ve been replaced by unmanned aerial sheep.

Bardia Sinaee is a talented poet, a caring publisher, and good friend. His press, Odourless, makes some fine books. His poetry has appeared in some pretty esteemed places, and he won The Walrus’ Readers’ Choice Poetry Prize in 2012. I once cracked a toe nail on his property.