STEVE  BENSON        05 13 15 

 A N N E X    P R E S S     2 0 1 5    

Why is it wrong?  What’s going bad?  What’s so
bad about this?  What “this”?
Coiled crouched tensed for aggressive assault

No longer calmly quietly meaning
discretely               You would do it. I believe you would
Ghost words come to me  and call my name
The past  is  catching  up    with me   in   dreams

This inebriated driver leaves the car
                   behind in a wire mesh
      under the shedding eucalyptus & hazy azure sky

The voice is caught up temporarily in the feedback
the way loops in the brain control the realization of

        It is necessary to be off and running
 if I want any place at all to get grounded
  the realization of this moment passing in
the dark penumbra of the eternal
   a collapsing shelter becomes this shawl
I may enjoy sharing with you  who  look to  me
for  warmth          –      we burn, we squirm, we scream

into the lost mic.   Change briefs for boxers for
tonight,   the window full of dark and stars
just don’t know how to fit in & so stand out
beyond  any  expectation  of  the  frame.   Adrift

in the salt sea  of  foam. Is  satirical  travesty
the other side of sincerity. An embarrassing spray

of me covers the places I’ve never been that I want
to get back to. It drips into the gummy pools
of futility and archaic fetishism I live by
in my back alley. The convenience store’s been shut
down by the riverbanks since the last bubble
burst the matrix collapsed a thick tangled mesh

of nowhere hung from invisible strings   I sing
in a flutey cracking tenor. Thru radioactive reverb
clouds you may waltz with me, spinning beyond


recognition. Anyone daft enough to think they
already know anything or anybody is wearisomely
arrogant to presume they can know it again, the same
Nervous tenderness is never dislodged, it’s massaged
warmed softened sensed bled into language



[04 30 – 05 13 2015]