poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

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 bizarre sound of my own
name repeating and people
praying
My hair getting
unwieldy in a world filled
with an abundance that approaches
formlessness    Strangeness
and beauty    Truth
is a melody like a leach
or the aftermath of the disaster
there is no trace of

2
poem

Love endures like war
A connection I make then let
be unmade    Some guy
nodding out in a Starbucks,
severe career advice
from strangers    It’s 1pm and reality
is palpable    A gun
I leave my DNA wherever I can
and have no opinions to speak of
except when showering

2
poem

 

Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.

2