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?