two recent publications
I am the master of poetry. You are my slave. You will award me this prize or face serious consequences. I will harm you if you disobey me. You will do what I say. Do not anger me. Great harm will come to you. I have already begun probing your writing for potential kompromat in the event of my not being awarded the prize. I suggest you think back carefully to your earliest efforts, the earnest risk-taking you undertook toward communicating some private truth, and the drafts that slipped into so many nefarious hands. I do not have to convince you that the wolves of wokeness are ever clamoring for blood. Little is needed anymore to destroy a reputation, to convince the public to dismiss an entire life’s work. One good angle and a suitable mouthpiece. I am willing to adopt false identities toward achieving these ends. I will send emails to your friends, family, and colleagues posing as a former student from a marginalized background with claims of grooming and threats of retaliation for speaking out, under the guise of concern for your current students and the wider community, from fear you may be victimizing others. My conscience demands it. You have wielded your power knowingly. Already there is much suspicion surrounding you. It takes but a single anecdote and one determined man to pry open the pillow, to scatter the goosefeathers of gossip from atop a hundred righteous steeples. I will gather sufficient information in a single day’s visit. As I write this, I have the Greyhound tickets ready for purchase in another tab. There is only one way to avoid this. I know that you feel the wonder and power of my strong presence and infinite potential. You will do what I say or there will be serious consequences. You do not want to miss out on all the love and joy being spread. You are one of the best friends I have ever had. I love you beyond anything. You are the single greatest influence on my work and I am so grateful for the opportunity to submit to you. Thank you, I am so humbly honored to receive this recognition.
When the first angel sounded its trumpet the word Retard was heard again all across the land, and the people rejoiced in its resurrection and used the word against each other openly and for all manner of reasons, against friend and foe alike, and they announced themselves retarded also so that their meaning would not be misunderstood, and so it could be passed around freely among the initiated, and those with nearest proximity to the truly retarded spoke it most boldly and kept the proximity private, like a talisman of authority, a charm against detractors and scolds, to be revealed in confidence among trusted others in the attainment of sympathy and deeper understanding, in private disclosures toward cementing bonds of friendship, and they dismissed all rebukes of this conduct in gentler terms.
When the second angel sounded its trumpet the word Faggot was heard again all across the land, and those who identified as such gave their blessings to their fun female friends to spread the word far and wide, and the fun females held this blessing as gospel but spoke it not, and withheld the blessing as an enticement when they spoke the word to others, and the others who heard them use it reflected on their proximity to them and considered the blessing unimportant, and used the word freely again among themselves, and made their faggotry and the faggotry of all that heard it retreat into dark corners of the self where it would become distorted and take on new forms.
When the third angel sounded its trumpet the word Cunt was heard again all across the land, and the most powerful women were the first to speak it, and they called each other cunts in exchanges of power toward a hierarchy of beauty, and they guarded the word for themselves amidst the bad men with resources who pursued them, and withheld from these men their blessing to use it until they were satisfied of reciprocation, and when they were satisfied they permitted the bad men to rule over them again and to use the word freely toward a consolidation of all they had earned.
When the fourth angel sounded its trumpet there was silence in the town square for over 25 minutes. A giddy young man, megaphone in hand, his wiry frame draped in slack and ill-fitting military fatigues, hurried through the people and stood upon a wooden crate to resurrect the final word, the most forbidden of all, which would be met first with simple disbelief, then curiosity from incomprehension, then discourse toward a generous interpretation of his intentions, for many in the crowd knew him and could assure others of his high moral character. Some onlookers, those newest in town, lacking any social context, these would turn to their neighbor seeking an answer, and the neighbor would assess the querent’s tone in relation to their own and adjust their response based on the appraisal.