ROBIN WYATT DUNN - POEMS

Robin Wyatt Dunn lives in a state of desperation engineered by late capitalism, within which his mind is a mere subset of a much larger hallucination wherein men are machines, machines are men, and the world and everything in it are mere dreams whose eddies and currents poets can channel briefly but cannot control. Perhaps it goes without saying that he lives in Los Angeles.
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black like my mother
rocking the world
no fire
no plain
no silver game of stones
no home
it's all heart
in the work of rain
 
rain the work
lift the hell out of its depth
and curl it under your toes
steaming and cool
 
black augury of death
main line and call
 
(we're calling)
 
hello, is this the black augury of death?
 
-yes, hello
 
tell us, just what it is, just who you are, just what it is, just why is it, why are you--
 
-I get this all the time. Please state your question clearly over the line
 
tell us, won't you, what is it? What is it now? And then?
 
-What is what?
 
Death.
 
-Death is a transition into the future; death is time.
 
Why are you here?
 
-Isn't it more interesting with me here?



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bear the dell inside
like a son
she's growing branches
over her head
blotting out the light
 
inside your head
we're growing trees
setting up the leaves
and looking for suns
to start the waves
 
hum hum
 
hum
 
hummy hummy hum


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​the future's on the screen in charts
your child's on the screen
 
at auction
 
at the mercy of the river of time
you have no control

​don't short vanity
no vanitas permiscuous
short raccoon love
short raccoon hate
 
we're mining silver
over your face
looking for stoppages
weather
needs
uses
cords
all time highs
 
plant the bomb and walk away
we have your back
I remember your name
I remember your face
 
and I'm singing your song under my breath

we're scamming the world
shoulders and shorts
mighty divorce from history
running the pokes and moors
churning the storks out of the sky
 
run me for Morse
deet deet dee dah
and I'll cut you out
and cut you in
on the sky
 
we're watching the world slip underneath our sleep
a whole day lying on top of a subway car
just watching the clouds

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