Two Poems

The Elect

I want to explore the post-hope zeitgeist. I don’t like the option of zero wiggle room. I might mean “I’m next,” or “in the vicinity                                 of,” or “about to” move my joystick sideways, register for the long interglacial moraine. Action Poem     1 On screen men discover that their mothers are imposters, that their world’s unreal. Substitution is eerie. (We discover this again.)     2 America has a lucid dream. She’s falling from level to collapsing level in someone else’s (whose?) terrain, through floorboards, off bridges, firing desperately. Someone says, “Dream bigger,” handing us an RPG.