Joshua A Ware

XLIII: Nude Descending a Staircase, Version 2.2 (2006)
           —in memory of Marcel Duchamp

                                                                                 Violin hips swagger yellow-brown clods
             swoosh swoosh right angle overlaps robotic descent
how time displaces a static past                     there is no such thing as an experiment
                                                                                           some experiments become failures
                                                                                                                    angles displace brown clods
      and if your naked flesh overlaps robotic angles
               once mechanical trains and rushing shingles took to the streets with sci-fi rapidity
yellow badge of armory      violent hips swagger
                                                rushing melodies: the armory tribute to calcium clumps of soil
                     overlap time
           no such thing                               swoosh swoosh joints grind on oil-ready steps
                                                    robotic speed      the bend of light lays time into sand
           mechanical violins and static flesh
      naked angles                     some failures become shingles           some experiments      no.

XLIV: Filming a reality television program

These European-style door handles are wonderful.

A soffit raised to the gods of late-night television is a confession.
A splintered acknowledgment that sometimes manual labor is a ghost house.

I love these European-style door handles.

Another “swing low sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home.”
so close to sodomy.
The talent: base      bronzer and blush

The European-style door handles. They are my favorite.

And      wait      wait      wait.

A scorching sun bathes foreheads.
Wait      a particular truth.
Know time travel.

I think, after all is said and done, that…wait…
These European-style door handles are wonderful.


And if I dreamed I was another you
           lying beside a New Jersey turnpike.

                                         To be a phantom of you

                                                   is to burn like TV-light into darkness
                                                             and leave an imprint upon my face.
                                                             News anchors and headlines sleep upon the bed.

I have imagined myself to be you:

I will defer the use of referents.
I will defer the use of antecedents.

                     It made my fragments

                                                             How long can one remain in character?
                                                             A washed whelp covered in soap scum cries a toothless hymn.

I will try you on and feel your skin.


As if it is a continuation of what came before:

                                                                 Haphazard movements of dream dogs
                                                       on davenports. Paw spasms.
                                                       But a mirror only reflects one angle of reality.
                                                       A desperate kind of recognition. Some experiments become failures.

I have imagined myself to be you:

I will defer the use of referents.
I will defer the use of antecedents.

                     It made my fragments

These are the stories we tell each other when no else is looking:
Remember the one about a swimming pool, rhinoceros and oven mitt?

As if it is a continuation of a dream.
A better way to tell the truth by forgetting or leaving out.

Joshua A Ware lives in Lincoln, NE where he teaches writing & is pursuing his PhD. His work has appeared of is forthcoming in the Alice Blue Review, Cimarron Review, diode, Harpur Palate, horseless review, Little Red Leaves, Mobius, Packingtown Review, past simple, Sawbuck, Sonora Review, & Word For/Word.

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