The world had loosened its tie — Two Poems by Glen Armstrong
Glen Armstrong presents two disquieting poems that move from the space of a family home into the pits of war.
Good Neighbor #19
This is television. Watch it enough and you will eventually hear the corn sing, see the king die, learn the name of a millionaire who made his fortune answering trivia questions.
My grandfather was one of the first on his block to own one. Oh, box of snow and little wrestlers! My mother once refused to go to a birthday party until the television revealed the mystery on Mr. Bluster’s head.
I have seen hippies, hangings, and talking frogs; skin, hypnotic circles, and biker gangs. Late at night, in a dark house, my orders came as if from another dimension. The world had loosened its tie, burned its bras, flipped its wig...
A Series of Tasks
We must destroy the fruit to understand
just how amazing
it truly is.
We must feed.
The tender curve of the sky
breaks open:
The nothing and the everything
rush into one another.
Both make me equally nervous,
as do all who operate
heavy machinery.
This is not a question of atmosphere:
the nearness of a circle
or a storm.
Nor a question of the new normal:
the nearness of a circle
or a storm.
We are one step closer
to the ripening,
the unbuttoned
striped shirt.
