Art by Kim AmbrizLittle Visceral Carnival by Philip Jenks & Simone Muench
| saddle stitched chapbook | 5" x 5" | 23 poems + 2 linocut collaged lithographs | $8
To purchase, visit Cinematheque Press
Dear Godzilla—
The parade didn't become you. You are so over the top
but this is why I love you, my atomic lover, my glottal stop,
this way! I'm splayed out by your popular culture,
your nuclear tail. Derail me with your maple-leafed
dorsal plates and heavyweight collective unconsciousness
that flattens the world beneath your postwar charm,
your angered architecture. Each step an earthquake,
Godzilla, you are so totally bombastic. I read you into
Revelations, you pretranshistoric tower crumbling as you
run towards your own disappearing future. Thunderbolted
to a phone booth, but unable to phone home.
Dear anonymous caller—
Beware of the smallness of men on missions,
remember not erased, but dissolving. To leave
a residue is to leave residence of oneself.
I shatter, but when I do the world shimmers
then all is gone to tone, to poem, to arboretum.
First published by Vincent Dermody in Information Booth #1 Duet for Caller & Oracle