two poems by matthew sherling


I woke up with an antenna growing out of my pineal gland

                     is this the apocalypse yet

               am I drunk off the blades of grass I’ve been chewing on

       my horse refuses to wear a saddle

                     & my eyes are two dreams trying to become lucid

                             everything is one big organism
I am consumed by fire
if life gives you lemons

     squirt them into your eyes

I think what I like about my typewriter
      is that I don’t have to plug it in

logic is only real when shared

isn’t it weird that tangibly the past doesn’t exist
      the present’s only tangible

how come all these objects are from the past

I’m gonna stick my computer in the freezer
      till it stops working

I’m gonna brush my teeth till they’re bloody

these things mean nothing to me
      they are everything

I guess when I see myself as an ant
      I can then proceed to build my fortress

when the part of me that can’t speak
sits with its hands in its pocket
      like a boy waiting for the bus

maybe sincerity is the most challenging way to live
      maybe it’s the simplest

something about the fact I can look at my face
      in the mirror
      for long periods of time
disturbs me

when I paint the inside of my skull
      as if it were an ancient cave
            I will find answers

cleverness can only go so far

I sat under every chair in my house
finding different

there’s no such thing
      as no such thing

I apply the scientific method
      to the scientific method

when I discovered my tongue
      I cut it out
& carried it around like a holy relic

whatever you can imagine is real
Matthew Sherling lives in San Francisco, where he likes to create things. He runs the interview blog Cutty Spot & the e-magazine Gesture. Among other places, his work appears or is upcoming in The Columbia Review, The Believer, Thought Catalog, Fanzine, The Lit Pub, BIRP!, NAP, & Have U Seen My Whale. He released a mini-chapbook called [WHAT] in April 2012.