CHRIS GORDON Northwest Review Vol. 42 #1 (2004)
July 31, 2013 § Leave a comment
TEN HAIKU
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by streetlight ants crawl out of the slot in the meter
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in the blue of his eye some wires and behind them clouds
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covered in graffiti the train car passes quickly through town
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the faint shadows on the paper made by creases in the paper
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all the color has settled to the bottom of the bowl
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cold spring rain snail in its beak the crow blinks
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a bead bounces on the linoleum she said it wouldn’t hurt
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crushed by a tire the yellow pencil fans out from its metal end
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briefly green from the copier two faces speaking to each other
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rain dripping from a light bulb a car backfires
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ant ant ant ant ant four
July 15, 2013 § Leave a comment
“In many ways the culmination of my original vision for the journal.”
ai li, Ronald Baatz, Peter Bakowski, Michael Basinski, Guy R. Beining, Ed Bennett, John M. Bennett, Ernest J. Berry, Diane Borsenik, Jason Sanford Brown, Tom Clausen, MTC Cronin, Bill DiMichele, A. di Michele, Dennis H. Dutton, John Elsberg, Crag Hill, Gary Hotham, Dorothy Howard, Jim Kacian, W. B. Keckler, M. Kettner, Jim Leftwitch, Shawn Lindsay, Paul Long, paul m., Robert Major, Errol Miller, Sheila E. Murphy, Dan Nielsen, Jim Normington, Simon Perchik, Anthony J. Pupello, George Ralph, William Ramsey, Dennis Saleh, Hiroaki Sato, Sam Savage, Caroline Steinhoff Smith, John Stevenson, Michael Dylan Welch, Arizona Zipper.
ant ant ant ant ant five
July 7, 2013 § Leave a comment
Now available for the first time here the complete facsimile of the Spring 2002 issue of ant ant ant ant ant. Hiroaki Sato translates selections from Tomizawa Kakio’s Wolf in Heaven. D.A. Levy’s Secret Garden Mix. Samples from M. Kettner’s Full Penny Jar. Jim Kacian’s The Slate Step Brightens. She Rouses Briefly And Says Dragonfly by Chris Gordon. All original design elements included:
CROW HAIKU
May 28, 2013 § 1 Comment
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with nowhere to go the crow goes
faking it so long what’s real to the crow
wasn’t a raven only a crow
paces when he should fly the crow
the crow’s cock his asshole they’re the same
stubbed your toe don’t you know the crow
the crow of beautiful filth he’s the king
peeling away the edges he winks the crow
the fox has a tattoo you know it’s the crow
killed his friends to get to your bed the crow
left his home to get to your bed the crow
the crow don’t believe a word he’s said
even in the movies the crow’s really dead
lies when he tells the truth the crow
tells the truth when he lies the crow
the crow the crow the crow oh no it’s the crow
his kitchen dirty his bathroom clean the crow
it’s not his fault it’s yours the crow
fountains in the gutter the crow is good to go
made a mistake can’t say no the crow
what your ass means to the crow you’ll never know
hey crow foxes some are smarter than others
what is real and what do you know ask the crow
he can’t stay away from witches the crow
your teacher that disappeared one day the crow
good with rhymes and taking flak the crow
getting low on what makes him go the crow
he cares he doesn’t care the crow he knows
his crazy shit real his real shit crazy the crow
the crow even Chris Gordon doesn’t really know
prefers tobacco to occasional snow the crow
has an invisible friend named Joe the crow
nothing in this message rhymes with crow
the crow he’s visible but blind in the snow
to the crow she says you don’t even know
yokes and fetters baubles to the crow
he’ll live the crow at least one more day
to stay alive his script full of jive the crow
the crow he’s hoping for two seventy five
you aren’t coming back too soon no the crow
what you both talked about I don’t know the crow
wants to go fast but always goes slow the crow
the crow the devil’s in the details you know
in your bed in the parking lot the crow
don’t know his filth is your joy the crow
underneath all the stupid joy is sorrow the crow
all it takes is one corner the crow
he’s got one more day than you the crow
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April 10, 2013
CROW HAIKU
April 5, 2013 § 1 Comment
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painted in a corner the crow licks the brushes
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the crow talks to ghosts with his hand in his pocket
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your daughter can pretend she doesn’t hear the crow
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no one knows where he sleeps the crow’s got no blanket
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after your war the crow sends a letter to his son
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you can kick him but you can’t kick the crow
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4:04:13
CROW HAIKU
March 27, 2013 § Leave a comment
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the crow often walks at angles
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the crow bites his tongue finds he has two
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under the crow’s feathers nobody knows his skin
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he gets itchy the crow grows hungry for blackberries
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who can take the crow talk to the seagulls
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the crow never sleeps but he makes you tired
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if the crow dances you better watch out
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at the station the crone always finds the crow
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he says maybe he really means no the crow
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3:25:13
2.14.13
February 18, 2013 § 3 Comments
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no
matter
what
I
fuck
up
the
daffodils
come
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(for John Martone)
CHRIS GORDON lost & found times 41 (1998)
January 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
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thick hailstones in April I keep swallowing my tail
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all these lights they’re humming uncomfortable in every position
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no continuous skyline the relentless efficacy of breasts
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behind the buildings the lake obscured by fog downstairs they’re fighting
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balled up in the shower her wet dress the soughing darkness
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wood smoke in the warm afternoon the deaf woman talks to herself
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she whispers in another language the intermittent rumble of the elevator
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a blue door tied down to the top of a car the smell of cut grass
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not much to say there’s a helicopter
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The Martian Chronicles read over the phone unsteady hand-jobs
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too windy for a hat sheets of newspaper slap the chain-link fence
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dream hungry the call of a crow on the telephone pole
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saxophone practice upstairs the machine fills with water
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in the brief blue flash of the train’s light on the tunnel wall abhor
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slowing down you can smell yourself
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CHRIS GORDON ant ant ant ant ant five
January 24, 2012 § 1 Comment
SHE ROUSES BRIEFLY AND SAYS DRAGONFLY
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distance acquiesces to heat you tell the fly he’s ephemeral
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the vents are being replaced I touch your drink by mistake
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where the lines end and the absence begins an architecture or so
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abruptness of seed taking orders from the smaller machines
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I get on top of you they start playing a commercial
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an eye tuned to the scrape of a chair an ambulance
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milt of friction the ring where the ring keeps the light from her skin
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pea on the trajectory of a scratch I will be a Ghost Dance
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all along the tracks splintered shapes swelling in the rain
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we talk about our childhood TV shows as if they were festivals
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moon a tear made in the sky with a fingernail don’t answer the door
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in the dream I was Danae waiting for a drip from the ceiling
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that dark thing in the green of your eye next to the window that’s me
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tensile strength of thistle the outcome of serotonin and loophole
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where she points at the red flower I don’t see anything
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we both wind up in the fruit aisle one of the lights above blinks out
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tell me what we’ll do on a bench by the river when no one’s around
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soaking in a jar for three days the beans are pink and ready to split
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aren’t all prophesies self-fulfilling sugar written in Spanish
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the oven opens to the smell of sweet potatoes your panties
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her ringed fingers twitching she rouses briefly and says dragonfly
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an act of transcription closes the flower travel a violence
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we exhaust the five hundred gimmicks like metal eucalyptus leaves
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my face a trapdoor spider candy foil floats along the dark train floor
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Lyric Intervention painted over All Day I Dream About Sex
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all the slurring and none of the puncture no I said sects
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weeds as tall as roses what I threw out the window when we fought
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between the cars of the train her body turns from yellow to blue
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a plum seed flushed down the toilet they found the arctic’s melted
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if this were an espionage film we’d all be dead
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ant5 