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Under the Gun
When this sentence should speak for itself‚
it does the way it does
everything: more or less.
FACTORY: We make the same moves on each other.
DALLAS: Get me the monkey.
ORANGUTAN: I prefer: ‘person of the forest’
or else ‘reference point.’
The camping party entered
not only the entrances.
Somebody took the cake.
J. PUCKLE: Good thing it wasn’t God.
GOD: I wouldn’t have given it back.
THE LITTLE BASSOON: I want to experience the unfinished works
of Paul Valéry‚
the way life unfinishes like a ghost‚
all over your face.
Everything’s First Time
Of course you can have
whichever you prefer.
CALIFORNIA: The deer are both hatless and nude.
LA ROSA: I want an Irish birthday.
BASKET OF PUPPIES: What’s in your basket?
BASKET OF FISH: I am not sentient.
At the cultural bureau‚ they’ve detected
that the bulls are all insolent and beautiful.
Sebastian usually rides through in the morning.
HIM: I will ride you to San Sebastian.
THE SUN: I will be a red nickel.
LOCAL FLORA: The flower-eating horses will eat us.
I would just like to say
the same thing again sometimes forever.
Pomp & Circumstance
In the midst of all this hubbub over God’s bisexuality‚
the wedding DJ tried to kill himself.
HETERONORMATIVE MALE #1: I’d have sex with God.
SARTRE: I’d let him fuck my tits.
HETERONORMATIVE MALE #2: I’m more of a Joan Crawford kind of guy.
JOAN CRAWFORD: Every film should have a bathtub scene.
Simplicity isn’t necessarily the answer
to the great and hypothetical question of
how to stage a naked-lady-gun-show.
BUSBY BERKELEY: I want the dancers to be limp.
BUSBY BERKELEY: Invisible men will carry them.
BUSBY BERKELEY: When they are shot from the cannons
we must see where they land‚
then where they live‚ and the rest of their lives.
In Montreal and indoors
Montreal is overcome with lateness.
CARMINA: Step lively and then to the left.
TRENT: Stand still completely for once.
DOLLHOUSE: Sometimes you can only move your eyebrows.
PEOPLE DRESSED AS HOUSES: Windows are not always not doors.
There is a high-pitched noise in the taquería
that makes it difficult intermittently
to think of how we’ve made a Québec of ourselves.
BIRD ISLAND: That’s not Québec.
ISLAND HOUSE: That is not the sea-place
they saw there.
QUÉBEC: I have a few more in me.
One has been led off out of habit.
One wonders where one should’ve gone.
Lots of Birds and Lots of Mammals
If something’s kind of sort of
something else‚ send it out.
DESSIRE: I will tell you if it’s good
LADY: I’m a magician or what I have turned into.
THE POOR: There is a second sort of life.
IMMIGRATION: As if you could remember
the first time you saw a car
in a mirrored window.
Saints should drive blue cars
and stop at every light.
MICHAEL: I will wear my boots and khakis.
EAGLES: We are always looking for the other eagles.
EAGLES: There you are. Don’t ever leave me again.
I’m tired of thinking
about the droves.
Paul Legault is the author of three books of poetry: The Madeleine Poems (Omnidawn, 2010), The Other Poems (Fence, 2011), and The Emily Dickinson Reader (McSweeney's, 2012). He co-edits the translation press Telephone Books.
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