Heir Apparent

Issue #50 December 2020

presence is beating and good , gold ringing shining | Benjamin Krusling

a single cloud sits with a low hum like an eraser

the law of society isn’t actually jungle law , we all observe

from the person shoved down the union square stairs one morning

and the people close enough to help and do

it’s grayer , but more fungible

a patch of blue

reciprocity , ascendance…

just had this class-negative nostalgia for university

evil , spiritually stunted , but met some interesting people

I was my wish , it was my time , who could ever take it so far ,

living , me , no

then she said: I think we have fewer options than we thought ...

we had just left karaoke

there was an extraordinary lack of tension

then I wrote :

the earth shines in the night sky , otherwise it’s gray , reluctant

silent , unreal , unexaggerated , dreaming now , just waiting

then “ I open the window to fire , running in the street...

considering how aggressive living is

we don’t live in the same world at all:

demoned up ?? all the time

it’s a game of dermal flickering

it’s the age of the plantation and rare earth mineral

for ex, I see my silhouette in the condo window

think I’m no cardiovascular system surviving my way along

I’m not vast as summer sun , grinded , upright

not ill , diverted , extra

I’m a low hum

I’m in love

I’m a bit of psychic pressure

I’m cheese , dope , and juice

then the night swings shut like the idea of glamour

mmm

in the end , I feel sad but not just



















simone said there is no god

about this heart–lung machine

that a poetic education produces

to manage nostalgia :

for ex: “cincinnati,” I thought after a bout of rhythmic lapse

with its steamboat energy , klan crosses

nothing doing

no home for my love of sheer ambience

red and shimmering

from the hill , you can see the land stretch

bathed in the gaze of the overseer

there’s harsh music happening again again again

metal music drone music

glass music medical bill music

I was born , I left , I learned

I became a very funny person

I got punched in the heart

now I’m starting back up

someone says come inside but the door is far , the rain is raw , clipping

all heard and left hanging by the person who is not yet physically strong ,

I have visions of frothing , overcoming , useful cathexis

in the cold cold summer with the trees suiciding

as they described car accidents in great graphic detail

fear language fear ethic

this continual droning , heart snatching

trust not possible only compelled then abused

pros and cons of slavery, little time bombs

we were struck in the head then, multiply and often

with my head leaned against glass and rippling escaping

it ran a gossiping loop around the outside of the building

in my dream , half dead people would walk slowly through the unlocked

          back door of the house , the light would darken , dream end

weeped enough , cried enough , died enough

it took a sick second to make sense of what happened

but now I understand :

beep goes the bulldozer reversing

one hundred dollars goes the electrocardiogram

we didn’t love the industry of speech so we wanted lines loose and crystal

          to change them

we wanted the throat to clear , cap condense

I was awake , repeating “deathstyle” until it wasn’t funny again

but still , awake

I didn’t want to make things up