Selections from Sonnets of Northern Darkness

26.
for Amanda

A poem should not be a bee because
that is problematic vis-à-vis the historical development
of technologies of representation. For instance
I number my poems in the margins because
I can’t count. Moreover, I am saying all of this
out loud. That’s fucked up dude. And like in certain
fashionable readings the most authentic place about Satan
of all the Satan-places is — well you can’t kill an idea, Kvlt Ov Azazel
is from Florida, you nerds. And what about 
what about makes it so versatile, a regular yellow bowl? I have been trying
	to turn
into a pamphlet ever since I found out the pregnant daughter from
Hemlock Grove was the new witch on The Vampire Diaries.
If you think about it of course I’m leading up to
a vivid image of Bigfoot-like proportions, but it’s a joke, it’s signed Beelzebub.

29.
for Sohmer

Blair and Chuck Waldorf, gay in space! my OTP
tbh — I’m all about the long game of dissimulation
qua seduction wherein this is and is not a response to Sir Philip Sidney…
well, it’s not that, but it’s not not that either. When
one sits down to write one puts one’s back and heart into it, hence
considerable pain and the illusion of desire to be, what, free?
how is that possible when I must go on forever since
learning scansion — “Gorgoroth” and “permafrost” are both the same — in the
absence of a ground for irony…
 — so it’s like this: Nate Archibald bro-nodding on an infinite loop
as praxis gets the heart all worked up, and then
you’re like “I’m feeling pretty implicated…”
You’re so perfect you probably think this poem is shitty because of you
and you’re right. This song is not that at all, but it’s not not that.