Atrocity Exhibition
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5 poems by Chris McCreary

5/11/2016

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eMote
 
Trespass badlands where
nothing grows. No one knows what’s inanimate 
behind arid bandana tatters so hide hackled eyes
& down in aspirational melancholy.
Righteous cabals might smite, tweet &
retweet your anonymous
falters. Make pleasant
face & yet
credentialize. No, we’ve never met. But
we have,
several times, & I
submit to porting system
solace. Please allow me to stiltwalk
marshes rumored once fertile. Grant me
courage to crawl & demand audience
with the committee, ask politely
for any audience at all.






 
eMote
 
A good citizen selects Vend.
 
Never shakes or shoves under glass partition.
 
No mere crevice, this clearly is crevasse
into which you’ve been randomed. Parthenogenesis
exoduses our hinters on top of Etsy vendors
too verbose for peak evening
circumlocating :
 
certainly their pleasures might’ve been
cabana wear but then the engine saw fit to evolve moths.
 





 
 eMote
 
Every epoch posits its own decision tree : two moons, three
breasts projected repulsion armor
when recharge rate’s too low.
 
The power of pit sweat compels gravity wells
so try not to cause
or dust up.
 
Lie back & think of wind farms where Sims
heavy pet. Let their 8-bits
ancest
 
too
lugubrious for
full meta YouTube walkthroughs.
 
 





eMote
 
Post-empire, pre-fallout &
each utopia craptastic in its own way.
 
A guy named Jason handles content migration.
 
Blocked docks mean no SodaStream & roving
protests until conjunct ups the necks’ anatomical
dung wattage so sorry
 
notsorry for pressing X before
full system restore.
 





 
 eMote
 
Creep bandit encampment while missions trigger
their revision bullets, warnings sniped  
 
& targeting thusly. Opt-out carnage
gnarls our fossils
 
from under Theta Class blackboard collapse,
chaperones’ clove smoke
 
a many-tentacled venom
tip pilloried on
 
the outskirts. When you’re threadbare &
discurricular, what’s left but to loot conference room Sun Chips &
 
Snapple, monetize expired bodega NyQuil
despite a tattered diplomas from Brown?


​

Chris McCreary is the author of four books of poems, the most recent of which is [ neüro / mäntic ] (Furniture Press). Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Elderly and Lungfull! and online at Philadelphia Review of Books. For more than a decade, he co-edited ixnay press with Jenn McCreary, who forges ahead as the press's lone editor.
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