JESSI MacEACHERN / 3 POEMS
The Factory Missile
Because I understand a jealousy plan I know what is going on. Choices list the night. The camera colors the days a little older than we like.
I watch the videos in order in order to highlight this darkness a little and yes he writes me of cicadas of landmarks of coaching the disturbed. Ciao. Ciao.
Otherwise there is the name Simon. Who else? Foreign I or landmark other.
Begin it.
*
Because I understand you the other feels that. My part writes in the other. I on his rounded chest still.
We are delivered to the wealthy town lush with aptitude. Listen as the record unfolds wind in our hair. Still the same thing.
Listen to remember we did not know how. Mouth to have. Une carafe.
Do you not want that I live my life?
*
To grass I rise open. Turn my aptitude. Turned where one turn would do.
You want it all debris. I want it complicit of more. Are you ready for the spread eagle?
Directions are for men. My intention is not intention but eyes trying something. There space begins.
Delete the last story of the sun.
*
I do not send for you but I am not a tease. In the meantime the average dinosaur will insult your dress. So it remains only I know how to talk.
East of the street where nothing happens everyone is moving and drinking. We are dressed in words and spots. Asleep you do not want.
Only I know I am about to burst. The conclusion drives past where I am going. Intensity listens.
I understand to have friends is faster.
*
I always thought the same thing. We forget. We need.
The name I was writing was nothing not anything but it was there. You follow it. I need a new mistake.
I love you. One day I will love you. In the elevator I loved Simon.
Taste it.
*
I want well everything. The next of kin is not a friend. It’s a way of loving.
Blue disappears. Repeatedly the dream puts me on one knee. If I have not loved you absolutely by tomorrow I will walk out without myself.
Print my contract Patty! Patty I ask for this. Patty I ask for something stationary.
An entirely wanted one.
Freeman’s Next Book is a Poetry Collection
Val's girl is of Japanese descent. She stands next to the Villa delle Rose. She is reading The Male Android by Paul Freeman.
In it the police appear good enough.
Life is never known. It is the fulfillment of limited syntax. Life is quite expensive. It is the material of a spoken logic.
But I do not have it.
The guardian told me to enjoy the work. Then he told me to enjoy the reprieve from work. According to tech service life is not expensive enough. The workers are diligent but life is not limited enough.
The commotion of a small yes.
In the lobby of the Villa delle Rose a browser window is left open on a review of The Male Android by Paul Freeman. Val’s girl read a related account on the cracked screen of her iPhone.
She has three little dogs named Love, Love, and Love.
I'm My Own Little One
I would agree with the oceans in the dispute.
Read of ritual use.
This line sucks
the lies out.
Tonight
she orders risotto
and goes for
the prosecco.
The news
every six hours. It’s 7:00
and I have
everything.
This exists. A real mind.
In order to be cultural
she bought a new hat.
Disappointment
emerges in everything.
Everyone can end up ruining a real mind.
Scandal here is prompt.
Sorrow is tartar
on your keyboard.
Listen
to the TV.
Listen to the forest
of envy. Three blocks
from the building and I
call the doctor. Yes
I’m now on his time.
No I’m not too busy.
I’m my own little one.
First of all it depends on whether she
intended to send me
the grandmother
to slaughter.
Oh what disturbs me is
also welcome.
Now she has left
the palace defiant
& drumless.
What sounds do these bodies (mine and hers) make? Whose bodies
do these sounds eviscerate?
Among men I am never
not small.
Jessi MacEachern lives in Montréal, QC, where she teaches English literature. Her research has been published in Studies in Canadian Literature/Études en littérature canadienne and CanLit Across Media. Her poetry has been published in Poetry Is Dead, Vallum, MuseMedusa, Canthius, PRISM, and CV2. Her debut collection, A Number of Stunning Attacks, is available now from Invisible Press.