JOSHUA COREY

  V2n1
Winter 03
 
 

Stage Blood on the Mouths of the Eumenides

  COREY  
 

Liquid on formica follows patterns the eye makes—

mustachioed Juan Valdez painting faces on the beach—

or a woman carefully pouring French springwater into ice trays—

On the sill a transistor radio is decomposing into static:

               buzzkill                         turpentine

Press star seven seven for additional privacy.
Press star pound star to disappear utterly.

And reappear at a pinched cry from an alley—

The map unfolds in traffic.
Context requires wrinkles,
even digital context. Context
is one of the slower-deploying
airbags.

And did you hear about the woman
crushed under the weight of her own hair?

It’s not a star, it’s an asshole.
This guidebook tells me the difference.

It begins:                  “I feel so small in the world.

“—My face is a concave lens. My eyes are the plate glass windows
that the dirty rain talks to and smears.”

 

Dissolved Soviet

ANDERSON

ANTHONY

DUTTON

KNOWLTON

MURATORI

STAPLES

SCHOMBURG

SILUS

 
 
 

Joshua Corey is the author of Selah (Barrow Street Press, 2003) and his poems have appeared in Fence, Boston Review, LIT, Jubilat, slope, and other journals. He lives in Ithaca, NY where he is a PhD candidate in English at Cornell. Find out what he's thinking at http://joshcorey.blogspot.com