The Poetry Project

Robert Glück

from I, Boombox

Note: I, Boombox is assembled from my misreadings. In that sense, it’s an autobiography in which I dream on the page. It is my version of the modernist long poem: published in sections and interrupted only by the author’s death.

A great rictus
can be heard.
Nakedness came
out of my mother’s
womb ASAP
to see what the
ideal is:
sacred competence
paving down the
cost of redoing
the dawn. Or to
compile data,
she led him to
the corridor
room. Typical
ice cream maker,
Julia helped
cap negatively,
strode into a
gingham Talbots
dress, seized up her
kissing breasts, joy
poem concerto.
Having quite a
dinner, brioche
seems superfluous
reproach. Powdery
casseroles. The
largest glazed doughnuts.
she feels her furry
compress the leper
exit after
closing the universe:
the hymen trick:
Inside Outlet.
As the call to
fight Israel
have bravely shot
dead groups, has been
encoded or
amplified, an
impala’s eye
view of Hemmingway
history. Their
wedding is sodomized,
like Patty Duke
plays Matt Saunders
as a nymph named
Sorry, but please
don’t obligate
to respond. His
author’s brio
says works in his
father’s brothels.
moron, in it
for the denial
coverage with
some nonchalant
options like “up
the bridle path.”
The back door to
resentment slams.
The art houses
of Utrecht made
17 wines
in a minute.
It’s not an animal
but an an. She
gave these distilled
instructions: serve
various with
missing agents,
gaze captors and
managers to
stun on every
page. Cultural
dependence has
a dominant
build, latched closed by
wire wrists. You
my tiredness,
my empty hands.
Bugger nonprofits.
fingers speak to
be unlonely.
My father spoke
the old lexicon,
shoots zebra in
the erogenous
with his buttery
powdered razor.
I yearn to die
under his knees
watching the rusty
crowds on the vast
night of the drive,
his chest coming
in faster clouds.
Shopping the cock
could look at each
other with so
much sin in our
eyes. A blond sort
of scene unfolded.
I licked my feet
back and forth at
the other end
of the scrotum.
Death suddenly
showed up on the
roses, welcomed
them to the State
Capital of
the World.

Issue 20