Status Updates From Motherland Fatherland Homel...

"The past, when it was sick right down / to its roses, obsessively checked the mail." or "The rape joke is that for the next five years all you did was write / and never about yourself, about anything else, about apples on the / trees, about islands, dead poets and the worms that aerated them, / and there was no warm body in what you wrote, it was elsewhere. // The rape joke is that this is finally artless."

"and my life was a film as long as my life of my name growing / mold in real time." or "When will the thinkers come for me. Visited only here by believers."

"I will learn precise numbers of people who died
and where they put all the bodies, under the garden
maybe, where they helped grow blood-red carrots
that longed to lodge in enemy throats,"

Or
"I am an old white British man,
decided the ten-year-old world, I wear a round
lens on my right eye, the Day, and see only a blur
with my left eye, the Night"

net nog kreeg ik bijna tranen in mijn ogen en een paar pagina's later ben ik hardop aan het grinniken en ik ben nog niet eens op een kwart!!

[...] I and the Arch we burned / to the touch. 'Don't touch that Arch a boy / we know got third-degree burns from touch- / ing that Arch,' says my mother sitting / for her statue. She is metal on a hilltop and / so sad she's not a Cross. She was long ago / given to us by Ireland. What an underhand / gift for an elsewhere to give, a door / that reminds you you can leave it [...].