24.5.25

Four Poems by Mark Young

 

The Oligarchs of the Black Sea

come whiffling down the esp-

lanade on their e-scooters. Spring

is here: which, incidentally, is the

title of a Rodgers & Hart song

 

about which & whom the OBSs

have no knowledge, especially of

the fact that, despite its title, it is a

sad song. Emotion has no place in

their portfolios unless sparked by the

 

acquisition by force of something

that belongs to someone else, & even

then they tend to be blasé. Usurp-

ation is a bit like Spring, something

that comes around on a regular basis.

 

 

A halieutic

 

In small-scale

societies every-

one carries the

same alleles as

everyone else.

Many have no

eyelids. Those

that do are cut

in a corkscrew

shape & support

the extradition of

drug traffickers.

 

 

A line from Miley Cyrus

 

Being on the internet just doesn't feel

as much fun anymore. Algorithms

loom over aesthetics, over-exposure

to celebrity images changes viewing

 

experiences. Seeing all those altered

faces on social media has led to many

devotees facing an aesthetic conun-

drum akin to wondering whether

 

or not learn Australian English. I

have an opinion. I have my own taste —

unlike those people who often don't

realize that they’re devoid of either.

 

 

scratchings

 

slowly

one thought before another

the poem

one word after another

shows &

phrase pause phrase

shapes

sentient sentence

itself