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All Poetry & Nothing But
Five Poems
by Vincent Farnsworth
Cheap Stereo Blasting in Small Room (Verbenas)

I squint out of the entrance
at white sails on horizon
say Go Home and light
fuse called volume

  I thank again and again
  the crunching and grinding
  guitars going in the back
  the smell of genius
  paint from the wall
  harmonies of man and
  woman who don’t care

  I thank again and again
  thank the ankh in thank
  gain in again
  the goodness of the graces
  of the great halls of fire

  all vibrations rock through my giant closet
  artforms on the wall
  dust forms by the bed
  potted plant forms stuck firework and word
  as clearly as mouth shapes vowel
  and winter rolls summer
  then the stalactites come raining down
  and pin me to cave floor

  electricity lasts lifetime of starting
  me was child in barber chair sixties crew cut
  electric razor music against my skull
  the drunk barber cut off my ear and
  damn thing grew back reaching out

  as five string noise outlasts
  all the horizons always is
  the whirlpool center in
  the hairy drain of the universe

  I thank the verses in the universe’s   
  Milky Way I thank the cum

  veins of all color
  arcs of all light

  once they threw my body and I just watched
  now I pace the base of this cone
  half looking for the corner
  wile away in the distance
  brought to me by ear
  pressed against breathing speaker

Focused to Burn

                        to burn
                        to refract colors
pure as emotions
                        hate or desire
                                    the light is there
                        evil / divine
            shredded photons
I do believe
                        sad sad photon
                                                flows along
                        particle come
                        on some scope
                                    stared at for endless days
                                    unplugged into itself
for endless days

How Did We See Space Still

how did we find out
that in the end they were trying
to kill us

(v-shaped crowds
flowing down the street)

how did they find out
we wanted to be left alone

(it is the serum inside the syringe)

who ate the poisoned food meant for us

(still life with bowl of fruit)

why was life blocked at every turn

(invisible sprouting flowers of transcendence
always sliced from every crack
where counter meets wall
between fingers of a fist)


we all knew this was gonna happen

(layers of colors plunging downward)

afterwards I remembered
how they stared

(sunflower daisy in dark blue vase
snow banks with a bone to pick
that random mass of planning people
self inflicted wounds not stigmata)

we decided on cheeriness and turning away

(Xrays natural or hospitalized
burning flesh into carnage or dinner
or black roses for public view)

how could we have predicted
there’d be
no other way to say it
for eternity

(a space fleet of eyeballs
trailing optic nerves
leaving Earth
and never looking back)

Out Dying on the Vine

out dying on the vine

my soul fell off

from another cluster
a grape not wanting to be wine

I watched as bemused
as a Venezuelan president

couldn’t help choking
up the fresh pita

thumbs up
on a luckless hitchhike

gathered a storm of information
but it just drizzled

my spirit merged with the mist
where past and future laugh

I knew I was through and said so
everyone was relieved

said Funny how I keep existing
everyone agreed

She Wants Me

It’s so cute how she wants me
to live

I read a CIA psych warfare manual
while listening to bootlegs
hear Cobain cough
in the section on
Subjective Internal Control it’s
so silly
                        how she wants me to go on
while the shotgun of my dreary glance
blasts every hope as it
flies from my heart
fading from sight like
dead birds on a trash heap it’s
so attractive
                        how she wants me to thrive
behind bars of grimaced smiles
the unconscious salesmen we called kin
from memories preserved in tupperware
and reheated in a cracked microwave
leaking cancer so plausibly
deniable it’s a marvel
                        how she wants me to grow
it’s like light from a star
you couldn’t touch in a million years
or an organic metaphor fuguing

but I see the twisted ladder I ride
splitting like DNA in a Monsanto lab
filled with such twisted and tortured
creatures it’s beautiful
                        how she wants me to live
                                    so sometimes I think I’ll do it
                                    just out of spite

All Poetry & Nothing ButClash of CivilizationsEC ChairFeatured PoetsForeign DeskGalleryStage
Hedonism: Theory & PracticeLetters & GlossolaliaArt of MarriageMoney TalkPets & BeastsZounds

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