Whoever is uprooted himself uproots others. “We elected a man with mental illness—not that I have anything against mental illness.” A tweet demands discipline at the level of the morpheme. Let there be an arms race!--six short sounds and an exclamation. A fascist poetry takes image as fact, metaphor as act. Trump Tower fucks with us. Question of the day: what kind of animal is the Grinch? Is he dog or is he dragon? Should we walk or slay him? We prefer myth to morning walk when myth makes us agents, our names preceding the strong verbs our instructors demand of us. My Netflix queue includes Human Centipede 3, named the second worst film of 2015. It's all act: castration, cannibalism, kidney rape, clitoris candy. The sound of the letter K lends itself to hate. The debt is all ours.
--23 December 2016