A chain from home consensed
On solidarity over gravity
Synthesized into sun burst
Over leaves the strikers supported
Signs once trees to strike the smell
Of fall Turrell’s angelic patriarchy
Struck from the Guggenheim with summer 

Through a filter tapped in a crisis framed
By default she stood before a painting
Crawling to the park
To die playing her experience 
Down where I screen
Grabbed out of her body
In a vibration without brightness






“I was seeing nothing but someone
But nothing I was seeing
Was someone” silly Sphinx
The password’s password

Rilke slept like a laptop
Under your chin unafraid
Of fate who would
Hear him no place planes breaking

Repeatedly into architecture without sharing
Our memories incompatibly who has time
Staring at an hour taps her phone
Her thumbs all feet at noon
Shadowing the sun for status
Updates our sky the Internet





One of your oceans
Scrolled back to
Streaming a poem
Down to a pool
But someone I was seeing
Was nothing, freckles
In the flash of anarchists

Who won what was
Nothing we wanted
From glass to look back at
Capital the male-bodied
Murders a dead female
Bodied pillar of trade to go
Or ceramic, to go ceramic






Two truths the tulips
Determined to say
Covered in coke
The Internet
In New York
Nature’s dead
Not nothing
Blew against you

Not for you
Phones in smoke
Dropped overnight
Capricorn over you
Working hard
Hair falling down







Similes hurt
Like hell metaphors burn

You should message me if
You want to fuck the police
Cotton candy fetus
No ceiling bud
Reflecting the sun

Confusing the cat
Lox in her mouth
Tears at my texts
Flood your phone
Smoke my bowl
Lost at home
Smoke my bowl






Pack my bowl on my laptop
Stay faded far away
Never flew with you
Only to and from you

Weed between keys
Faded to fuck
Your face
Between Brooklyn and Kingston

On Pacific lifting lines from
Jeff on Carroll
On trap rock to
Dream River
In child’s pose I text myself
Pack my bowl on my laptop
Stay faded far away







Could care
Less for you
Smoke less
In your mirror

Used with loans
Another you
I can’t lose
Leaves between trees

Faded in snow
Reflecting the sun
On your phone in my hand

Your hand in my other
“Coldest Winter” on repeat
If spring in memory








Birches in pebbles
Below marble
Like my haters

Less literally online
Drinking earlier
In your mirror
Faded in the flash
From your phone
Your ashen hair
Shulamith Firestone
I taught “Down with Childhood”

Faded below fluorescents
My bowl in my parka
Glass with down








Bought a sweatshirt
To wake up
Retroactively in sun
Passing as white
In your mirror
Inside fleece
Not for you
And not nothing

Pissing sun
String through clay
Spoken song
Into ashen hair
In your beanie
Up to sleep








Ash in her
On her rug
Toner in her
Pronouns are
In memory of her
I taught “Down with Childhood”

On the train
No movement
In New York
But fucking friends






Your ass upside
Down in your mirror
On your rug inside you
I saw myself
Without skin but sun
In snow blocking your mirror

Promise not to swallow
In spring drinking my food

Smoking your water
Sun in snow
Nothing to occupy
In New York
But someone
Not good enough







Good enough
You told me my story

Paint over paper
Reading ends
After the Future
In your comforter
In your capacity
To be alone
In your mirror
80 Flowers
Open in a window
On your screen
Shaving your head
Without saying






Structured less
Than my hand
Slapping your ass in
Your mirror wasting space

For reflection
You told me
Inside you falling down

Forsythia without saying
For good
Enough in memory
To be alone in my sweatshirt

After holding repeated drives
Drinking earlier







Happened twice
You would wake me
Reflecting the sun
No demands in the house
Of being like a language
Good enough
You would weigh me
Hairs on end
In your sleep
A tap away
From glass to me
In vibration without brightness 

Joomla SEF URLs by Artio

Buy Lana Turner #9

Issue 9 is HERE!

Order Now

@ltjournal on Twitter