« Christine Herzer | Contents | Brad Liening »

MC Hyland

On a volé un collier de perles de 5 millions


the scrap metal the tossed-aside reaches the river

which turns upright into a damp kind of sky


the woman is an instrument of the particular present     

zeroes & typographic pearls      quell across her breast


a pair of legs walking through that time 

& into her despair    the woman removes


her dress & we enter her mouth      we touch the doorknob

& wave goodbye to the ship with all our


triumphant tin flags       with all

our sorrowful hands & eyes



rain falling on the river & the beautiful girl

the cameraman visible in reflection      her hair


a perfect thundercloud hanging in midair from

a stone wall of large boulders snugged


wipe the sweat from her neck      a false city

peopled with model trains grows seasick as a fish as a


school of fish in a shaken aquarium near the light

moving toward us between crossed leaves


an invisible audience becomes trees her hair & her shoulders

moving above ground towards the city center a globe crushed


electric wire seen from a train      tallest building

pointing up & up to commemorate


the empire & how it shapes the water repeatedly



*note: the title of this poem is taken from Fernand Leger and Dudley Mitchell’s 1924 film, Ballet Mécanique




Snap! Snap! Snap!


by a safe I twitch at my mustache     

& sailor the gun through the air 


under where my shirt is there is laughter

the plane takes off from the kimono


& spreads the woman’s hand upon

the velveteen divan regarded by


two waistcoated men with a certain repetition

the cat walks by so larger than the city skyline


& the woman arrives behind a spangled curtain

first afraid      then sly & smoking like a cannon



« Christine Herzer | Contents | Brad Liening »