Two Poems by Nicholas Rombes
|March 14, 2013|
Drone Wars: Episode II
Let me press yourself into your fucking
self until you disappear completely.
You are the executive
of unmanned hate
but also of love who
in cooling mansion halls never says
Northrop Grumman X-47B.
The skies are filled with bees
turning bodies inside out
with all the precision of a drunk surgeon.
Someone in the mansion nurses
another bad idea. Someone lifts
the curtains of flesh.
Look up. Look up.
Frigid in the high atmosphere
where the children are sleeping then
dropping into the substanceless world.
A fifth of a body. Can you smell it?
The stench of an idea
vapor-trailed to extinction?
Mirror neurons tell the story of the new
faith descending from a skyfull of blood
and sand and you don’t know how to escape
your own flame-struck thoughts do you?
The harsh day and night
at the barn.
with rancid hay.
of backyards and elemental
oaks. The leafy spray
of opened veins.
An idea rises and once
it takes shape the hinges
A full socket
of eyes the size
The way the gun hums just
before it’s fired.
About the Author:
Nicholas Rombes, author of Cinema in the Digital Age and A Cultural Dictionary of Punk: 1972-1984, is an English professor in Detroit and also a columnist at The Rumpus. Some of his work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Oxford American, The Believer, Exquisite Corpse, and other places.
Merleau-Ponty’s Child Psychology
As much as death signals the end of the self, birth is just as mysterious. Both extend out to infinity and signal the brevity and contingency of our lives. As mysterious are those first few years of life that one does not have access to as an adult, I know I existed before my earliest memories. I know I interacted with others, I learned to walk and talk. I was willful from my parent’s tales.
William Pope.L: Reader Friendly
William Pope.L is famous for (among other things) carrying a business card that identifies him as “The Friendliest Black Artist in America.” It’s a clever gag because it makes itself true, in a way, every time it draws people closer. The card must be especially useful when Pope.L does business with people who dread Black men or Black artists.
10 Things the NSA Has Seen Me Do
One winter in my early twenties myself and some good friends — a merging of art, music and literary ladies of New York, full-grown girls aspiring to be women — got together, had a lovely dinner, some wine and delightful chat. Then we decided to spend an hour practicing “Teach Me How To Dougie”. NSA — can you teach me how to Dougie? You know why? “Because all my bitches love me.”