Two Poems, Matthew Fehr

Two Poems, Matthew Fehr


excused, in the event of a tragedy. light builds and the parking lot’s streetlight more diffuse, the three ornamental species landscaped wastelandery in the geometry gloss with dew. red honda accord and silver F150 thermally indistinguishable from the concrete are the gameboard’s only played stones, still casting double shadows. more distant trees inhale color, no movement in the atmosphere. from the hill above, nearby human voices barely carrying, stalking the low flora. from here the mall is a tablet, one wallight’s ballast blinking on the near side, the humans’ descent down through the sparsegrass pausing yet again. all the irrelevant areas of the valley are lit now by the indirect radiation; it is more difficult to isolate the pertinent architecture from the sprawl beyond, the scene bends focus. some nearby maples occupy a triangular remainder space to the west of the parking lot, possibly as many as five, with two firs amidst the thick blackberry. at the isoscelean point a firehydrant clothed with grass, a heap of detritus, battered newspaper box on its side, carapace scratched with signifiers. implanted in the membrane of the blackberry knot a number of modded shoppingcarts clung into the lips of a rag-strewn valve to a murky interior space, strewn decorated with sodden magazine paper, ravaged electronic neuralfibre, dirt fabric tatterdancing the waking breeze, a rhythmic lethargy, a few axial stones.

“Like Button”

duress, then. taking the battlefield in bright sweats, technotribal. intent upon an overinflation of whatever into a critical autopoetic material substance, yes, these, virtual transpiration sequence realtime semidecipherable mass of atoms, idling: transcend, trash! what structure should stand? we heap every angle. this is the meniscus, as gesture in information aesthetics, nanorobotics, the ever-fattening human, accumulation structures: shoals and clothespiles. reacquaint slump, auto-product. and yet we prefer, difference, and hangs subtitle across our vision for weeks, we walk cautious, click connection. siphon the whorls the periphery, slipstream holographic tangent, diffuse into observant anonymous street. call it what you can, status, annotation, a snap-sliver acceleration in the general sloping arc. feels like now. meanwhile the race buckles, drifts; implant, solder churn indifference civilization. it is a matter of scale, a shotgun projectile architecture across base pairs, tissues, tongues, frequencies, hardened surfaces, eons, MHz, superstructures, anaxial forms, the subatomic void. matter feels warm like a gradient of intermediate states; cling to it. markets have both emotion and climate, we absorb, we absorb, sling orbit as stance with instrument, try actual. the frontier is interface, a field of millimetres, supersaturation, scav’d matter, sporadic scatter distribution, avant-prosaic. though inept, these failures are unprecedented. so machine. skyline rorschach anomic, simultaneous; there is notable loot we won’t list. just moody sensory input of transient states, its dinventory[sic!]. scale the square’s steps, seduce reassurance from the street swish. go back inside, leave the midday driftrain, the summation of all history. redux.