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Academy of American Poets Summer Series. Recorded at the New York Public Library, August 5, 2014.

About this poet

Justin Marks is the author of You're Going to Miss Me When You're Bored (Barrelhouse Books, 2014) and A Million in Prizes (New Issues Poetry & Prose, 2009), which was chosen by Carl Phillips as the winner of the 2009 New Issues Poetry Prize. He is co-founder of Birds, LLC and lives in Queens, New York. 

We Used to Have Parties

The city is a kind welcome

of fire    It's on fire

I tell you         not making sense

in the usual sense of the word sense

but a meteor’s bloom

The bad guys rehearsing

their latest number—

high kicks and all—the good guys watching

videos of unrest in real time

The way you high-fived me

I thought we'd have sex

Such excitement       negates the self

All the cops    standing still

The mask we wear      is assassination  

You're cutting out

From You're Gonna Miss Me When You're Bored (Barrelhouse Books, 2014) by Justin Marks. Copyright © 2014 by Justin Marks. Used with permission of the author.

From You're Gonna Miss Me When You're Bored (Barrelhouse Books, 2014) by Justin Marks. Copyright © 2014 by Justin Marks. Used with permission of the author.

Justin Marks

Justin Marks

Justin Marks is the author of You're Going to Miss Me When You're Bored (Barrelhouse Books, 2014) and A Million in Prizes (New Issues Poetry & Prose, 2009), which was chosen by Carl Phillips as the winner of the 2009 New Issues Poetry Prize. He is co-founder of Birds, LLC and lives in Queens, New York. 

by this poet

poem

The dots are on order     Cops patrol
the larger subway stations
on segways     Nobody
gets out of the way    Yesterday
I had a colonoscopy    which required fasting
for 40 hours and taking so much laxative
I shat water    Now my body is clean
I'm cleansed    and have the

2
poem

Plan the future            A presence unknown

                                        Derivative is the way I hit snooze
for an hour on my alarm each morning

rediscover and marvel at
                       my one grey chest hair

When I don't know how to respond

2
poem

My natural instincts are hardly ever right. When I sleep there is a voice in my ear coming through a cheerleader's megaphone in a really bizarre language. I understand fully. The world is out the window. When we wake on the weekends and my wife wants sex, I say, the furniture is feline, let's just snuggle. Then I