K, MEET L Amelia Colette Jones & Ben Nardolilli
K: Amelia Colette Jones
Sharky is currently a train conductor residing in greater Chicagoland.
He is a vegetarian but will eat fish.
L: Ben Nardolilli
Jonathan West is:
A persistent cough and flutter in his heart
Ruin any chance of pentameter,
He makes accusations of the doctors, so remains
Heaving up and down the stairs.
"mister sharky? he's not at his desk right now, can i take a message?"
pescatarian suspender undershirt wearing running laughing sweating boy in the bubble double divorcé asexual contradiction of everything true and pure in the world
making mixed tapes
L: Word explosions huh?
Two can play at that game. But this one doesn't want to.
Better to play the squares of our Oligopoly as we bomb Tripoli (again). Board ships and raise stout canons. If necessary, we can catch breezes with paper sails. Let's stitch together our unpublished works. Then we can lob our leaden tomatoes at the latest bad political vaudeville star.
Or we can stay indoors and recycle round old stories with wine that is new to us.
So much vast machinery to reproduce!
K: Firstly, I told you I work for a living.
In my own show and tell
and collecting faces.
I passed out again last night while I was on the phone with my girlfriend
did you listen?
I brought over the album by that band you like.
K: today i cut my hair.
leaning over the sink, i learned my reflection and snipped 2009and10 onto the cool history of the bathroom floor
can we cringe at the poetpainter? - he knows too much
i'm going to study trains - by myself.
L: Plains or trains, darling, you're not going to get anywhere but somewhere. Mountains and sea are a bitter fit for you. A hundred faces in the middle of a continent, you call that a destination? Why not get sun stroked by the shore or tickle a few orchards in the deep south? You can try to make distance with wheels but only when you walk a length is it worth putting a stinging post up about it. Might I suggest something for those memories to take in the morning and make them still?
K: friend, i am struggling to not make comments on your facebook,
memories are heavy and grey felt thick.
your prescriptions leave me motionless and yearning.
suggest what you will
and i will continue to illustrate postage stamps
what of your mountains?
what of your sea - can i see it from my engine?
L: Keep that engine away from me. That humming sound is now so humdrum. Seriously I never asked you for a drive at all. If I wasn't so enthralled and entranced by your face, I would have called this a kidnapping. Seriously though, what are we going to do with the welts, no no the head welts, the heart ones, the bruises inside me. Fine, consider it internal bleeding.
K: Dear Heart:
chill the fuck out.
I have white vinyl and my toothbrush
we are damaged
in this curious correspondence
tell me something i don't know
L: Ugh, the website is down and the children are growing hungry. But of course the bowling alley is open and the supermarket has its rolls of lottery tickets. Quick, let's burn one for wood and the other just for fun.
K: I apologize for my absence.
I wast thinking up some chalk drawings
I laid down in the hopscotch.
The fish and rice i cooked for dinner -you left it cold
You forgot I have no children.
Not keep hovering in the non spaces. I need gravity. Red meat. You know, the struggle.
L: Just a touch of love? Just a little bit? Oh you're mean. These things have no meaning. Give me some open palms. I'm done and down with the old coast and the summer places. Where is the breeze of your voice to be found?