nthposition online magazine

Left untitled in the ensuing melee (titre provisoire)

by Michelle Noteboom

[ poetry - august 04 ]

A storm can have little more meaning than trafficking wildly through fields whereas human destiny is to eat on a train. We keep bumping like things that go in the night. Holding back information is empowering though I admit to a burning need to read her. The shed hung exploded in the specially built room and shadowed in the crannies on the wall. First he said there was something synthetic about it and then he made me cry. Feeling slightly like a lackey as of late. I need a new bunny. Loneliness is so photogenic but it doesn't always translate well. I asked for fire and he pulled out a lighter embossed with a purebred basset hound. Now there's a concept. Overheard in a rectangular room full of Rothkos, "It's cool. There's like murders and stuff." A propos de rien, the words dissolve back into ink. Confusion of the non-visual in terms of ruminating utterly basic principles such as brushing your teeth before bed. Who's to blame for the hymen and the heap of cat on the floor? There'll always be some man ready with his corkscrew. We don't do refunds but you can exchange within 30 days upon proof of purchase.