i shouldn’t have brought my phone to the
By Camille Intson
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<code>
embedded: memory flash drive / SELECT: [x] day 007998 processing… processing… alarm ALARM alarm rise wake sounding Yellow Light Flashing [ o ] [ o ] POWER ON/ OFF Eight New Messages, Notification Central: 12:58 “you up” 1:28 “i can’t sleep” 2:54 “i need you” 3:53 “answer” / Flick open — University Labour Strike Threatens Jobs Students Unions Futures Collective Sanities / twelve shot in sydney / Terrorism war & premier tax cuts / clickbait waterfall stream violence cats with tails caught in fans / another 101 dead, alt-politician gay-lesbian persecution and America, / Cyborgs and communist resistance in Nazi masquerade / PAUSE / </code> I have few Gods. 1. Google / crypt of desire / infinite feedback looping Mammon unhinged 1. The Cloud (libido housed in password-protected drive) 1. Music / absent soul’s portal. / once Pulse and Protest, now: tonight, tonight, give your body to me, babe give me everything, babe ear vessel-turned-port harkens the / Beat of the fourth dimension: another drink, babe your body, babe. <code2> embedded: memory flash drive / SELECT: [x] day 007998 / PLAY / DAY / MONTH / YEAR TI:ME 28 03 2019 11:08 rain-/ tar-smeared water vein meets three coated bodies, waiting not for the Messiah, nor judgment, nor the moment of desire, nor the eternal footman, but/ for the 2A east of wellington street en route to Argyle Mall steel, non-winged bird/ broken body shuffle like 52 pick-up: “but how far to the market?” {flailing limb} Excuse Me, — grunt — bird shit on the adjacent seat — eyes stapled cling to the SCREEN: Data ON LTE: No route found — Two New Messages: / “you awake now” (9:03am) / / “sorry i’m fucked up” (9:10am) / / “i see you online” (10:24am) / I recall: i watched a man fishing in the river thames months ago, / sun went down & cars drove by and up went / smoke and toxins in my lungs / but i was confused in that i’d never seen a happier person and he fished and fished wet jeans lugged round his calves & something about it made me want to throw myself into the water mouth open like dead cod and find the hook have it pierce my tongue and get dragged from the marsh & sold & fried for dinner & digested and did i miss my stop i think i missed my stop / PAUSE / </code2> <code3> embedded: memory flash drive / SELECT: [x] day 007998 / PLAY / DAY / MONTH / YEAR TI:ME 28 03 2019 12:34 as the old frown so the young learn to grasp at beef with wilted knives & buskers chant poverty, harmonica beat & swing decreates and recreates building blues here / in the old market / there is but love concealed a song of flesh & wire there is nothing to capture but / the moment </code3> the poet
By Camille Intson
I find a copy of his latest book perched raven-like on the
wooden table of his one-bedroom apartment. He’d just ducked into the bathroom to take a piss and when the faucet stopped running and the door creaked open, he caught me fingering the pages—I say what’s this? Put that away, he says. No. Why haven’t you shown me? Because it doesn’t matter. (He put it away.) Maybe later, then. Tomorrow. His hand at the cusp of my shirt runs into my mouth and we blossom together. And I’ve come to him late at night when words have failed us both. Maybe now I can be a poet. In the morning, the smog peeks in and the sheets smell of stale buns and bug bodies rotting in the underground stations and I am struck by the notion that I may never write poetry at all, that my poesy remains between my legs, infantile seed. He curls up against my body and as he plays with me I feel rather childish. I board the 2 line in the morning and find my own way home. Camille Intson is an award-winning Esto-Canadian writer, media artist, and multidisciplinary theatre and performance maker, currently based between London (United Kingdom) and Toronto. Recent works include the digital media work betweenspace (betweenspace2020.co.uk) and the online gallery Intermissions: Works For A New World (camilleintson.com/intermissions). Camille is a recent graduate of the MA Performance Practice as Research at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, and will be starting her PhD in Information and Knowledge Media Design at the University of Toronto this fall. She can be found everywhere on the internet at @camilleintson, or at camilleintson.com.
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