Best By
Pull
the doors
off,
river
shadow,
protector
from
flame
the
silhouetted
body
propped
against corridor wall
black
and yellow light
re-simulates
yellow light, re-simulates black
Behind
and above, voiced shadow
points
to elevator
down,
Times Square
Questioning
the instruction
turn
and enter
a
pitch volume
The
name
Times
Square
mathematical
algorithmic
predictive
by
“the third
unconscious”
what?
and
by Verso that
first
person pronoun will buy them
discounted
‘Bifo’
and
Joque,
“protectors”
in
critical
function
sense
of
art
the
way
doing
extinguishes
doer
Breton
and
his arcane flowering
ego
hates
the sea
visits
Gaspé
writes
of seabirds
all
these names
become
trinkets I
dream,
become
toute cette époque
attroce, nous sommes
de plus en plus
conduits
à la voir
à travers
son rȇve
“I”
dream?
our
dream
becomes
Image: “Arcane” by Cayusa
backseat game snap
Dawn of a new era, bro.
Era of the arse, bro.
Dude. Era of the Art of Nice.
Midnight at the Butt Light, dog.
Don’t say it, dog.
R u policing me, dude?
Just sayin’, bro.
Manpower, dog.
What about girlpower, dog.
That’s “man” and “girl”, dog.
Dude. Girlpower’s different.
Equal, dog.
Girlpower’s different.
It’s workforce, dog, it’s a stat.
The WEBB out there, bro.
Sale at Foot Locker, dog.
Dude. It’s astronomy or whatever.
Dog.
Double-U e b b.
Nasal spray, too.
NASA, dog.
Oh yeah.
Scooch over.
Same universe, bro.
No way, dog.
Norway.
No spoofing.
Am I, though?
Fact.
It’s Windows, dog.
Same uni, bro.
What about manservant?
Dog.
Gimme Lipton Ice, mom.
Some lip, bro.
It’s dog-eats.
What, dog.
Dog?
What, dog.
Bro.
What, dog.
Dog.
Image by author
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Louis Cabri’s recent poetry includes Treazure Chewings (available at https://ryanfitzpatrick.ca/modelpress/) and Hungry Slingshots (New Star Books).
