20161022

Shloka Shankar


page 3 — apathy (n.)



page 500 — grasp (v.)



Intersection

your head, spinning like a top,          making shallow observations
                   
                 your knees buckle: 
a new holiday is born

destroy the mood 
stuff your sorries              in a sack

then dry heave set to music.

This isn't a good time.           Pull out the obstruction,
don't stare at it; 

gravity remains constant

running against common sense            at three miles per hour.  

What is this ritual?                     Just pop a pill 

and intersect  
misery with pleasure.


page 24 — perception (n.)



page 230 — reading (n.)



page 347 — unscrew (v.)



Voices

i.

Wonder so as to be
earnest. Never
witness stale grace;
joy shuts grieving.

ii.

This error list,
now argument, allowing
you and me
to follow the untried,
glistering power.

iii.

I imagine speed unfold—
leaving
is growing patience.



Where Do the Ducks Go in Winter?

People never notice anything.

Falling and falling,
find out where you want to go.

Keep records of your troubles.
Pass by puddles with gasoline
rainbows in them.

Say something that doesn't
interest you.

One thing?
Okay.





Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer from Bangalore, India. She loves experimenting with Japanese short-forms of poetry, as well as found/remixed pieces alike. Her poems have most recently appeared in NOON, Failed Haiku, Right Hand Pointing, Erstwhile, and so on. Shloka is the founding editor of Sonic Boom.

Sources for the pieces above.
Visuals.
Bag of Bones by Stephen King. "I took photographs of individual pages and digitally manipulated them using an online photo editor." The title of each erasure contains the relevant page number.

Poems.
"Intersection." Quotes from Seinfeld.
"Voices." Act IV, scene 1 from The Winter’s Tale by William Shakespeare.
"Where Do the Ducks Go in Winter?" A remix composed from select lines and phrases from The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger.
 
 
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