CHECK, CHECK

CHECK 1—check, check

CHECK 2—check?

CHECK 3—can you hear me?

CHECK 4—is the room empty?

CHECK 5—can you hear me?

CHECK 6—oh well.

CHECK 7—my story is empty, anyway

CHECK 8—lights off.

CHECK 9—goodnight.

CHECK 10—NEXT ON CNN: a poetry of directness:

kill all the noise bros who move to Brooklyn & tell everyone desperately that the noise they’re making is the only thing they believe in. kill all the bro poets. actually you know what, kill all the bros. kill all the power dynamics in the room. kill all the power dynamics in the white room. kill all the power dynamics in all the rooms. pull them down by their greasy cables. get yr hands dirty. kill all the hierarchies of power of who is publishing who & who is fucking who & who they fucked before they got published. publish who they fucked, or don’t. kill the nonprofit board of poets who scheduled the endless summer reading during dyke march this saturday. & kill the sociality that makes queers feel excluded & that makes the orgy dangerous for our bodies & that makes you select who to make eye contact with & who to ignore on alternating nights & which beer to schedule on which day & which bar to go to after which reading. & kill the system that was designed to alienate everyone from each other & that caused this desperate sociality to emerge & kill the system of gendered power that makes it so hard to inhabit every moment in my own skin to know how to detect each buzz like counting the number of trains that pass at night. & kill the language of avoidance that made it so hard for me to write this.

CHECK 11—is anybody out there?