from Work from Home Poems
Jeremy Hoevenaar
A deceleration in the decrease
a picture of a description
whipping up some lorem ipsum
to verify the readmission
billable de novo whackamole
gif-less and snooping the route
viddy you in the gathering hole
Just another sheaf of skin samples
ramped up and flapping in the sunburn
just another fondled bundle of biases
coveting that Sepultura windbreaker
Cals’er on the server
summer Friday CPA
okie dokie on burned brain
feeling these broken links
azure and fucking
lit with potential
energy, emoji pathos
flits through timestamp
sounding the chthonic
erotics of the client portal
In the bath, half
of a half of 1/3rd
asleep, doxing
the motley keynotes
as dreamography,
letting it all hang
out on Zeno’s strip
coming to under-
stand that that
murk you shirk
is today’s lucidity
–come in under
the shadow of this
grimy medicine
cabinet…I will
show you fear
in a handful of
dongles--monitors
beyond monitors,
tempest toss-off
IT scene change
harbinger of blue-
tooth gothic, quasi
like a fox, residually
feeling what I can
only surmise are
selective, potent,
fatherly feelings for
this wayward thumb
drive, these flakes
of efficacy clogging
up the drain
Talkin’ bout
the same node
here, O colleagues…
where the hair
bears its scalp
returned to
the torn firma,
blank holiday,
superb specimen
of a catch-22
in pants pocket
(are we still
using pockets?)
save and save
again, I remember
Snowden, not
Edward, but
the one with
whispering guts
spilled out that
showed Yossarian
that people, like
paychecks, are just
as much material
as a kind of roving
background wash
ungently rent
by occasional zaps
of context or connection…
so I’ve started to
reverse all my iPhone
videos, thinking
of Vonnegut and
Dresden (do
such reversals
countenance more
than health of
sentiment?) or
that really beautiful
sequence of pages
where the Falling Man
falls up in Extremely
Loud and Incredibly
Close, a book I tried
hard not to like
in 2005, just before
I entered the
jubilant depressions
and privileged
compulsions
of my wasted 30’s,
before we got
married, before
we entered the
abscess, when we
all lived in the forest
and no one lived
anywhere else
Consummate confessional
coffee w/ pep pills, welts
stretched on dawn-sunned
underarm, brown brick
glistens, every minute
a gem, duck, keel, heave,
delete, delete, delete,
so many minute voids
in the wall, voice given
to the ghosts of stolen air
conditioners, the bad
bad, the good good,
the bad good, the good
bad, the whole world’s
congealed labor, and all
life subalterns within
subalterns, silverfish
glides we watch its legs
like Netflix, me and my
cat like lone wolf and cub
walking, walking, seeing,
seeing, vengeance is ours,
gods surround us in clouds
of mystic gas, the many-
spectrummed Kandor
of our love respires
and hums a dim glow,
no trouble, friend…
we know animals are
people people should
learn from, safe here
in the managed despair
with this leverage,
dander, plumage, care
Sing, O flotsam,
of elegant conduit
and quads in the
landscape, dread
again beckons from
inherited content,
regret two-step
late night verified,
the warmth of
function flubbed
or winged, now
I sleep in domestic
ditches, keystroke
time into space for
blooming pay, boom,
innocent, set off
a bellicose convo,
Nietzsche would have
killed on Twitter,
I wish I’d known
aboutness was
a burden when
I’d started, heart
contractility so
amazing, the body
the seat of high
weirdness, never
more than 500
feet away from
a billionaire’s death
cloud, daydream
Mark Fisher installing
anticap antennae
on the roof of our
building, “they’re
safe for you and kill
bedbugs, too”
a feeling of franchise
a feeling of Scottie!
a feeling of Dave Mustaine
a feeling of hyphens
a feeling of refills
a feeling of catch of the day
a feeling of such as
a feeling of stetted
a feeling of MFA
Purchased a pair of
nobody likes me@work
boots to wear and tear
the baseline micro-
soft slurp woo hoo
my minor laurels
free to C the D’s’r
slug goliath 8-eye
spies in the riders
n’slices of rejected time
Well but that’s just like your
isometric dungeon trawler
bitcorpse inclusion criteria
dumbcore blameclaimin’
antiFAQ slapstickler onlyfans
workin’ for the weekend work
hotsheet shakeshack atavism
internal use firmware getup
clamup behoovery refill
airkissing metrospectacle
garden variety tilde abuse, man
There’s no such thing as an outcome
There’s no such thing as a passive vector
There’s no such thing as a good post
There’s no such thing as a good poet
There’s no such thing as a fixup
There’s no such thing as a dust-free kitty litter
There’s no such thing as another scoop of brain
There’s no such thing as a saved face
There’s no such thing as a lighter note
There’s no such thing as work
There’s no such thing as home