Trilobite is an arthropodologist's delight:
many bizarre creatures; no two alike.

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


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


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