In honor of the publication of Dean Young’s new poetry collection, Embryoyo, by Believer Books, we offer the following selection, from page 84 of the book.
Don’t Need a New One,
Just Fix What You Got.
You’re not going to like this,
says the mechanic. Fine.
I already don’t like people sending me
pictures of their children not because
I don’t appreciate wee Marta eating paint chips
or Alexander thrashing his horsie
but how does one dispose of such photos
without weird mojo?
And I don’t like that everyone gets a frog
to vivisect when a simulation
accomplishes just as much, frogs,
their plight, being a priority of mine.
Compared to bleaching the planet,
what’s an alternator?
60% believe man’s created in God’s image
but can’t see His face in the mantis,
His heart in the dying squirrel.
The gun lobby got the vote out.
Comparatively, what’s a problem with the wiring?
110% said the data was tabulated fairly.
Please don’t let me become
one of those who won’t touch anything
without gloves because of the contagion
although I feel the attraction.
Don’t like paper or plastic.
Don’t like people leaving their dogs in hot cars,
don’t like the football traffic
or the new parlance of emailing courtiers.
Cram as many notes as you want
into Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,
it’s still Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Christmas lights left up all year
thus robbed of the emotive force
of their redeployment I do not like.
Can you give me a new soul,
asked a guy on Telegraph Avenue.
Yeah, right, another nutcase
but then he started to cry.
Big sober kid in expensive thug regalia.
What happened to your first one?
Defiled.
Him, I liked.