Louis Cabri : Two poems

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

 

 

Louis Cabri’s recent poetry includes Treazure Chewings (available at https://ryanfitzpatrick.ca/modelpress/) and Hungry Slingshots (New Star Books).