Towards the end of the Christian Era there was a form of communication called “social networking,” which made use of the same wires as an earlier form of communication called the “telephone,” which it mostly supplanted. An early brand of “social network” was called “MySpace,” which enjoyed an extremely brief popularity before quickly being rendered obsolete after being purchased by an aging newspaper mogul. “Newspapers,” as their name suggests, were a way of disseminating news that was printed on something called paper, which was like artificial birchbark; we are speaking here of news that does not stay news.
“MySpace,” in addition to being a communication medium, included a rudimentary publishing mechanism, and I experimented with it for a time. I had long given up the writing of poetry at that point; however, one day it dawned on me that “poems” might be exactly what MySpace was encouraging me to produce. Either that or the most retarded things I ever wrote. Or both. But formally: they were bits of writing, identified by titles, and “poems” is probably as good a word as any.
Soon after drawing this conclusion I lost interest in the whole endeavor and began wasting my time in other, better ways. Rereading these I honestly think they’re fucking awesome. Little bullets of retarded poetry shooting out into space… into a space which is not, will never be, mine. I offer them to the ten directions. The pdf is here.