almost stale
By Nathaniel Calhoun
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almost stale
a pantry mind at supply chain’s end grips
the twilight of nourishing things.
textures moisten toward non-seaworthiness
toward post-absorptive soupbone impressionability—
consciousness nearly bestowed upon the remnants—
something to lose amongst the wrecking crew
that churns in topsoil. the sad held breath
of ruined treats spores out in reverse gasp
declaring inventory failure. stickers
under stickers distract from the undoing within.
We remove the rot we see and eat the rot we don’t.
I bite the taut half of a turned fruit.
sours curl down my wrist—a rosary viper
a noble corner, a truffle provocation.
the fruit was a peach.
a pantry mind at supply chain’s end grips
the twilight of nourishing things.
textures moisten toward non-seaworthiness
toward post-absorptive soupbone impressionability—
consciousness nearly bestowed upon the remnants—
something to lose amongst the wrecking crew
that churns in topsoil. the sad held breath
of ruined treats spores out in reverse gasp
declaring inventory failure. stickers
under stickers distract from the undoing within.
We remove the rot we see and eat the rot we don’t.
I bite the taut half of a turned fruit.
sours curl down my wrist—a rosary viper
a noble corner, a truffle provocation.
the fruit was a peach.
machine readable
a machine reads stylistic flourishes as replicable ticks,
leaps and unilluminating loops—claustrophobes quail,
irradiated and legible. young holograms spout bravado
under known influences—patterns undeclared but
shimmering. I remember nothing. I have only bathed in
phrases. always the drain awaits. tool-dependent maker,
shoulder demon memory aid, provenance muddled free of
traces. what notoriety awaits the cyborg poet who takes
thesaurus work to the asteroid belt and returns wrist-to-
collar palladium-bangled? at least taxidermy makes you
homesick for the wild.
a machine reads stylistic flourishes as replicable ticks,
leaps and unilluminating loops—claustrophobes quail,
irradiated and legible. young holograms spout bravado
under known influences—patterns undeclared but
shimmering. I remember nothing. I have only bathed in
phrases. always the drain awaits. tool-dependent maker,
shoulder demon memory aid, provenance muddled free of
traces. what notoriety awaits the cyborg poet who takes
thesaurus work to the asteroid belt and returns wrist-to-
collar palladium-bangled? at least taxidermy makes you
homesick for the wild.
Nathaniel Calhoun works and writes from the sub-tropical Far North of Aotearoa New Zealand. His projects help to protect biodiversity and improve governance processes within organizations or communities. You can find him on twitter @calhounpoems