11.2.26

Four Poems by Mark Young

Cyborg sidewalks

 

Doors open at 7:30, show starts at 8pm.

It's always polite to be there earlier.

 

Travel is a mirror for who we are.

How would you define your travel style?

 

Should you be polite to artificial intelligence?

Straight answers that are slightly polite are always good.

 

Conversation-starting pieces of clothing will easily draw attention.

Social pleasantries in questions & answers should be strongly discouraged.

 

There are three-month-old dumplings on the ceiling fan.

That's a style, not a confession.

 

 

Threshold

 

Liminal space beckons. Is filled

with fresh-cooked bagels that I

know can't be real because they

smell too good. I am standing at

the top of a stairway that leads

down to the local rail station. All

I can see are steps & a sign on

the wall that says This way to the

 

Led Zeppelin concert & looks out of

date. The smell of bagels comes up

from the bottom of the stairs: there

are no signs of trains or travelers;

posts an emptiness that is both im-

minent & has fragrant disconcerts.

 

 

A line from Leopold von Sacher-Masoch

 

Is there a border we will never cross,

or are there only plateaux that

follow on from one another, each at

a different height? Some things I

 

can never know for sure; but I remind

myself that every day is a new begin-

ning, that from now on I no longer exist

as I am, or was, or ever will be again.

 

 

A rarely explored tonal pathway

 

He tore pages out of An

Open Doorway to the Almighty

& ate them. They repeated on

him, percussive, but still melo-

dic, much like a glockenspiel.