“Would You Look At That?” and “Way To Go”
Liam Swanson

Would You Look At That?

I’m like the English artist who slept with a different man every night on her bare mattress then displayed the milk thing for her thesis.

Except I am taking pictures of my genitals & pressing delete without ever looking at them. Every night.

I will call these my bed poems.

The horse was acting as the scarecrow when I returned from town. I turned to my wife & said, What, did the Russians win?

I took a picture of my genitals & sent it to my wife.
She received the photo, turned to the horse, & said, What, did the Russians win?

The scarecrow approached & put a piece of hay on her phone screen.

Many horses died that night.

Look; it means nothing. It’s just the raspberry bush outside your window. What would you tell the doctor if he came in on you in this state?

I would tell him to look at it.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, said the raspberry bush.

The doctor is a war profiteer. I see him at night, taking pictures of his genitals. Deleting the pictures.

Distance is real. Being apart is real.

Very interesting of the surveillance state to do.




Way To Go

I had been party to the birth of a satanic child. I turned to my wife & said, Rosemary’s Baby is a great film.

A bird settled on the baby’s spinning sun & moon. Its name was patriarchy.
Careful now, I don’t want you having a fit. Having a fit & dying, said the doctor.

Do you think, Doctor, that this is the only world & there are not in fact three worlds?

Saith the child, this world, the world inside your body, & the untouched world where insects open & close their jaws.

Music poured through the window. We danced a dance named patriarchy.

Is this the virtual world? Hello I am a dad & my child commands the insects & opens & closes its own ruby mouth.

These bugs really know how to enjoy life. They are wringing their hands, wringing their feet. Sensuously, they give birth.

Have you seen my perfect hands. Have you seen my perfect & ungainly genitals.
Have you seen my grotesque hands. Have you seen the genitals I had velcroed to my body?

What a way to go. You can either turn into a thousand bugs or just one.

If you look for me in my bed you will find me. Click on my body. Click on my pulsing building of a body.



Liam Swanson studies poetry at the University of Arizona. His work most recently appeared in Cloud Rodeo and is forthcoming in Cartridge Lit. He is a head editor of Sonora Review. If you’re interested in insects, communism, and/or video games, follow him on twitter @liamsswanson.