John Forbes

A certain cast to their features marked
the English going into battle, & then, that

glint in the Frenchman’s eye meant ‘Folks
...

Death, you’re more successful than America,
even if we don’t choose to join you, we do.
I’ve just become aware of this conscription
where no one’s marble doesn’t come up;
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The Greeks invented the dust cover only to
paint it / but we think of art as an alibi
& see through it. So now what’s around us
is no longer just what’s beyond the pencil
...

The Classical Head

Nature in her wisdom has formed the human head
so it stands at the very top of the body.
...

Spent tracer flecks Baghdad’s
bright video game sky

as I curl up with the war
...

Old father of the horrible bride whose
wedding cake has finally collapsed, you

spoke the truth that doesn’t set us free—
...

After breakfast in the Philippines
I take a bath
& it’s a total fucking gas

Enjoy the ice cream, Gerald,
...

there’s an end to sex
it’s like the alphabet but simpler
and for you, all there is
and for you too
...

Read about the Goliard Poets
so long dead & so like you—

sile philomela pro tempore
...

where are the bluebells
& the blank deck of cards

the children’s toys
...

it’s fun to take speed
& stay up all night
not writing those reams of poetry
just thinking about is bad for you
...

The dictionary definition of change
means your face looks different in the water
& even tho’ you’d feel at home down there
each moment spent at one remove, anywhere
...

like a dozing shark
or a very quiet limb
waiting for the lecture
to make it a star the
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I often dream about the ocean
and would like to write
a long ode to water, because I live
on a drought stricken flood plain
...

American poets!
you have saved
America from
its reputation
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dont bother telling me about the programs
describe what your set is like the casing the
curved screen its strip of white stillness like
beach sand at pools where the animals come
...

Raving against the space
where the poem sounds
like a revolving door that
makes the noise a car makes
...

Be still, my beating heart, & you, body
Don’t go banging into that tree—
The one the girl turned into, back
When the gods were like they are
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Let’s paint the ideal supper on the back of
our heads where the poem is a type of hole
rope tricks and grit allow you to descend—
...

I wish we could be nicer
like the Americans

instead we are caught
...