Supercomputer Spends the Night
Spends the night with competing impulses.
Of a hypertextualized modality
in a barely perceptible tactile shift: like
knuckling a ligament in the literature. Stay,
valentine, stay—within normal limits.
Neurochemically speaking, what isn’t distorted?
A dissolution heartbeat. Misshapen laughter.
Reenacted by muscle memory—method
of inquiry / frantic artifact / unholy
sugarwork / salted switch-speed / cherry
sacrament / bulleted exultation / midnight rain /
the story so far / weld-same pillow-weight /
delicate stitch and a shaky sense of
self, sweet human.
Times Square, Decades Before the Apocalypse
Beneath the blueless
creatured sky, not a family
so much as a parliament
of scowls: a murder-suicide
of magpies: a quarter million
Turning the city
slicker, clouds unleash
a shiver of disconnect.
unwilling to unknot.
Not so soon.
Danielle Zaccagnino is from Queens, New York. She is in her third year of the MFA program at Texas State University. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Word Riot, The Butter, Puerto del Sol, SAND, and Rust + Moth, and she was the winner of the Sonora Review‘s 2016 Essay Prize. She is a poetry reader for Third Point Press and Front Porch Journal.
Jake Grieco is a MFA candidate at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodies Poetics, a Slytherin and a Scorpio. He’s from Cincinnati where people put chocolate cinnamon chili on hot dogs, but he now lives in Denver, Colorado, where people smoke weed.