allen-page
Portland
The Census Bureau calls me Allen Dunkirk Wesson Page. My friends call me Allen. My brother calls me Stefano. I am a poet living in Portland working as a part-time barista at my friend's eco-friendly, hipster, super-indie, and of course, OPEN SOURCE, coffee shop. I draw my poetic inspirations in large part from the L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E poets, the New York school, and the beat generation. Perhaps my largest influences have been Frank O'Hara, John Ashbery, and Rae Armantrout. I like to write poetry commenting on my life, on world events, or, really, of whatever pops into my head.
Was it I who wondered
Sipping on a concrete straw
Waiting through the renegade
Pondering the diamond before me
It was made of paper
Defer through me
Subvert the Zipf distribution
It fades as the cicadas in the leaves
The starry nights close in
like curtains covering the sun
The sky a theatrical production
The structure effacing complexity
One on hand conflation, projection, fuerza
One the other, subversion
What is a hand
Black dog wanders through the meadow
Sing me an odor of the breeze
Trolleys carve out ravines in their wake
The past has with it this mystique, this ambiguity
to understand is to circumambulate
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
Flatten the Earth. Peel the orange
into a butterfly
Octahedral symmetry guarantees it
**** Euclid assumed
How can we be sure of anything anymore?
If we question the fundamental postulates
Do social norms work as postulates?
We assume X, therefore X is true
Cease your baseless premise
Stop the assumption
Deconstruct and be free
Yet we can never be free
Liberation is what we crave
A liberation from power
from language
from truth
from meaning
and yet it chases us down
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
Pandas are fluffy. Labradoodles are…
Bake the road, crush the world.
Richard Feynman, Freddie Mercury?
Can you be unique?
We are defined not by ourselves
but by the Television set
by the media
by our leaders
What the hell is this Orwellian nightmare?
Do we exist independently?
Individuality is discouraged
unless you have money
This postmodern splash
The drones of nighthawks, flapping by the shores
The shores of Calavera, of San Luis Obispo
If the mountains drifted out to sea
Let the toaster rule you.
Let the media.
Not like you can stop them.
Wheee! Ride, piggy, ride!
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Love is a Waldorf.
A Graham or an Ackermann? Nope,
won’t suffice.
Fortuitous interactions led me here.
The crest of Eebs, the sphere.
A polynomial function is infinitely
differentiable.
It carries many names, and many tools.
analyze it and again and again
Each derivative kills information.
Eventually we all go to zero.
Enjoy it while you can,
speaks the radio man man man STOP RHYMING
The rhyme scheme will further
our demise
destruction
is
imminent
at least I had waldorf
reduction
to
nothing.
at least I got chicken.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Does Queenie love Kingman?
Give it windfury.
Be my magnetic field.
The king and queen are but constructs
Roles they are forced into
Coercion. Co-optation. Join us
Tell us what to think
Tell us - tell them - how to love.
I won't listen as fully as the rest
I make my own definitions.
Succotash. Ketchup. Gluten.
Someone forgot the curds
Mark my words, Gilbert
The bras and kets will multiply tonight
Let's be a scalar
Let's make some sense of
the abstractions
Only
to
be
broken
again?
I crave not sense
I crave the electromagnetic field
Sense is the king
I want the prince
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Jinx! You owe me a haggis!
Sheep! Sheep! Sheep boing!
I tried to connect the two.
I am glad that someone loves my discursive stuff.
I feel thrilled that someone validates me.
Tell me why again? Why why why not?
Did you mention socks? Why?
You’re a sock! Your face is a sock!
A pair of socks! I laugh!
You didn’t anticipate that one, did you?
I will nevar stop. Nevar.
Yes. An alternate spelling.
Hehehehehehe.
Be bold. Be bold like Leeroy Jenkins.
Yas. Chicken music. Yas.
He was brave, he led the charge.
On monkeys and elders, what was our conclusion?
Monkeys are silly, elders are catnip.
I am silly. This poem is silly.
Hehe. You know what I’m about to say next.
We must keep it a secret.
Sheep! Sheep boing!
Figure out what that pakis-ectomy is.
Yeah? Yeah? Well, you’re a pakis.
I guess that Wyatt Cenac
said it best:
I have to fool you. I am fooling you.
Aeneas, Cooper, Pedro, and Boo.
They are all amicable with each other.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Derk! The Harold angels sing.
The muffin is my savior. Jesus lies.
Pacific Islands. The screaming of fires.
Rulers. Words. Meters. Feet.
The magnetic field is the only field.
If I could trust baseball, I would.
But cereals, Vonnegut, lies.
-ectomy. The ubiquitous suffix.
Suffixes make the world hell.
-ism, -itis, -like, -tude, cease
your
silly
constructions!
Constructions
are
power
I will smash
bye bye now
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC