Andrew Lundwall


don't know why encouraged her say that i'm a grown child - the dragon at the end of the elusive halls of the telescope of her neck went 'round and 'round like confetti detonations - there's too much echo in these rooms the devastated floorboards agree - hand me an i'll see you later and off i run to the land of illusion - sometimes like a matador trapped in a cardboard box - the teensy teacups were vomit-worthy and the doilies - i modeled in the mirror as the 8 track played roy orbison - you just had to be were somehow there writing a poem 'radiator' or 'refrigerator' or something nice like that - listen andrew lundwall your one character defect is that you feel too unique

i want lips without pretense
scatalogical springtime

i want the scorpions in my eyes
to uncover the clocks that box us in

unclutter the glow in the inner
to realize sans compromise

let the murmur truer IN WAVES
and be relieved because of

your truant arms
move the cursive of my night

the slightest movement will do
to satisfactorily unwind with me

i want to be one
with my tierra del fuego

smoke in the factory of communication
don't be alarmed is just goofy incense

little flames like little gulps
little rhumbas little deaths


you only think that i was talking but really dear it was you - there are trees outside set up like magician props - my bust looks nothing like me - i was reborn once satellite honey two words flashed huge before my eyes i'd awoken that day as from a coma all happy-go-licky - have you plucked out the hyphens to try find me? - relax just keep telling yourself it's only a poem you'll learn to enjoy it after time - punctuation's the cattle prod - that little umbrella in your cocktail well it knows more than it's letting on


stoned psychic in the chill cold of dark dripping feeling like sad songs 'neath the stairs - eventually i will gather up enough courage to get rid of my sinus infection we'll bar brawl only one will come out most rad mc or grandest champion broken bottle kaleidoscope in hand - when my voice enters the mic like a fox retreats to its hole know that i am with you - she is what honey is - that ambient shit is giving me some really bad vibes headache downpour from east to west from north to south - ever get this feeling like you know something that you don't really know but you do - my hands are concerned parents when the puppet show's on - what would i look like if i were muppetized? - you will come to know my name as you do every other name you'll refer to me as the amazing the death-defying - if my lips are encrypted know that i'm not feeling this fleeting moment like an arpeggio more like towards a cosmic miscommunication or some other unidentified feeling no offense intended rather it's me trying to be constructive or something

Andrew Lundwall's work has appeared in numerous print and electronic literary journals internationally, including 5_trope, Dead Horse Review, Seven Corners, Aesthetica, PFS Post, Lost & Found Times, Big Bridge, Eratio, Shampoo, Moria, Get Underground, 21 Stars Review, Deep Cleveland, Sidereality, Retort Magazine, Admit Two, SpaceBreather, Aught, xStream, Ink Magazine, Dream People, Dead Drunk Dublin, Blackbox, Score, Near South, Miami Sun Post's Mad Love, Unlikely Stories, 88: A Journal of Contemporary American Poetry, Litter, OCHO, Otoliths, rock heals, and Blazevox.

He has released two chapbooks, klang (deep cleveland press, 2006) and funtime (Funtime Press, 2007), a collaboration with Adam Fieled. He lives in Illinois.

previous page     contents     next page



Post a Comment

<< Home