Ben Lerner

The predictability of these rooms is, in a word, exquisite. These rooms in a word. The moon is predictably exquisite, as is the view of the moon through the word. Nevertheless, we were hoping for less. Less space, less light. We were hoping to pay more, to be made to pay in public. We desire a flat, affected tone. A beware of dog on keep off grass. The glass ceiling is exquisite. Is it made of glass? No, glass.

There are starving children left on your plate. There are injuries without brains. Migrant workers spend 23 hours a day removing tiny seeds from mixtures they cannot afford to smoke and cannot afford not to smoke. Entire nations are ignorant of the basic facts of hair removal and therefore resent our efforts to depilate unsightly problem areas. Imprisonment increases life expectancy. Finish your children. Adopt an injury. ‘I'm going to my car. When I get back, I'm shooting everybody.' [line omitted in memory of_______] 70% of pound animals will be euthanized. 94% of pound animals would be euthanized if given the choice. The mind may be trained to relieve itself on paper. A pill for your safety, a pill for her pleasure. Neighbors are bothered by loud laughter but not by loud weeping. Massively multiplayer zombie-infection web-games are all the rage among lifers. The world is a rare case of selective asymmetry. The capitol is redolent of burnt monk. ‘I'm going to my car. When I get back I'm shooting everybody.' [line omitted in memory of _______] There are two kinds of people in the world: those that condemn parking lots as monstrosities, ‘the ruines of a broken World,' and those that respond to their majesty emotionally. 70% of the planet is covered in parking lots. 94% of a man's body is parking lot. Particles of parking lot have been discovered in the permanent shadows of the moon. There is terror in sublimity. If Americans experience sublimity the terrorists have won. ‘I'm going to my car. When I get back I'm shooting everybody.' [line omitted in memory of _______]

jumpsuits, they have changed painting, I behind the concertina wire can't look at it anymore, that wall across which shadows play Sorry to be vague at such an hour. Were you When I called, I heard my voice anywhere near waking in the background Strange, reversible lines, I thought he was dead. He is better of it, pushing the glass away. How many songs can it hold, that thing I've seen in windows, has it changed singing, or hooded figures I didn't know it had a camera, some features are The blue of links, obscure beneath the face, the green We still don't have a word for Simulated drowning in embedded streams a perfect world

jumpsuits, they have changed paintings, I behind the concertina wire can't look at it anymore, that wall across which shadows play Sorry to be vague at such an hour. Were you When I called, I heard my voice anywhere near waking in the background Strange, reversible lines, I thought he was dead. He is better of it, pushing the glass away. How many songs can it hold, that thing I've seen in windows, has it changed singing, or hooded figures I didn't know it had a camera, some features are The blue of links, obscure beneath the face, the green We still don't have a word for Simulated drowning in embedded streams a perfect world

By any measure, it was endless winter. Emulsions with Then circled the lake like This is it. This April will be Inadequate sensitivity to green. I rose early, erased for an hour Silk-brush and ax I'd like to think I'm a different person latent image fading around the edges and ears Overall a tighter face now. Is it so hard for you to understand From the drop-down menu In a cluster of eight poems, I selected sleep, but could not I decided to change everything Composed entirely of stills or fade into the trees but could not remember the dream save for one brief shot of a woman opening her eyes Ari, pick up. I'm a different person In a perfect world, this would be April, or an associated concept Green to the touch several feet away

By any measure, it was endless winter. Emulsions with Then circled the lake like This is it. This April will be Inadequate sensitivity to green. I rose early, erased for an hour Silk-brush and ax I'd like to think I'm a different person latent image fading around the edges and ears Overall a tighter face now. Is it so hard for you to understand From the drop-down menu In a cluster of eight poems, I selected sleep, but could not I decided to change everything Composed entirely of stills or fade into the trees but could not remember the dream save for one brief shot of a woman opening her eyes Ari, pick up. I'm a different person In a perfect world, this would be April, or an associated concept Green to the touch several feet away

The bird’s-eye view abstracted from the bird. Cover me, says the soldier on the screen, I’m going in. We have the sense of being convinced, but of what? And by whom? The public is a hypothetical hole, a realm of pure disappearance, from which celestial matter explodes. I believe I can speak for everyone, begins the president, when I say famous last words.