the asterisk is not me, it's steven wright
the asterisk is not me, it’s steven wright
by Shawn Misener
In this world we are giants
puffed up with air
we bumble and bobble across the neon plains
in this world we have full-body tattoos of ourselves:
except taller
and with brighter colors*
in this world we talk to each other incessantly
and never meet
we ride on words like the rapture might be near
we postulate and copulate
we rhyme and dime
we spill and thrill our guts
our hidden public guts
we haphazardly spew ALL OVER
and wait to see who licks it up
then we have the confidence to spew some more
in this world there are gods for sure
but we all wear masks
so who can discern the avatars?
Oh my Jesus! I thought I was the only Steven Wright fan out there! i luv his dry humor.
Talk of giants and gods puts me in Norse mythos frame of mind. I marvel at the balance, precision, and expert spacing in this poem. I always appreciate the demeanor/tone which strikes me as scholarly working class.
There is an element of contradiction thruout poem (forgive me, i forget the proper term): tatoos taller than ourselves, “we talk to each other incessantly and never meet”, “we spill and thrill our guts/ our HIDDEN PUBLIC guts”. I thought that little section of rhyme in the middle fit nicely into the poem. …And the graphic depiction of ‘spewing’ and waiting to see who ‘licked it up’ really slapped me waking me up and driving home how harsh the world can sometimes be.
The mention of ‘air’ and then ‘avatar’ is secret handshake code for fans of Nickolodean’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender”, which me and my kids are fanatical devottees. That damn Fire Nation is going to get what’s coming to them! Great poem! Thx.
Thanks Quasi-
subconscious avatar reference there. . . my daughter loves that show. A lot.