Two Poems

by Glen Armstrong

EXPERIMENTAL MUSIC

The cellist seems lost
in a vast arcade where updrafts

of futuristic perfume
interrupt the stale air.

The musician manipulating tape
loops worries

about a thumbprint.
        
          •

A longer tailed,
fuller bodied blue jay

takes up a branch
adjacent to the amphitheater.
     
          •

Certain lines change
as certain people listen,

resulting in uncertainty.

          •

The surefire ways
I've been sold in the past

no longer allow me
to think aloud.

          •
The clouds are full of data,
erasure and string.

REQUIEM FOR BIG STAR

We plan ahead in the land
of sub-par piano wire.

We leave the paving stones
undisturbed

and attribute our lack of success
to ugly shoes.

As children on the street,
we hung

out because that song on the radio
made hanging out

sound like an essential part
of the adolescent experience.

We are building a reverse catapult
to attract boulders

from the sky.
It’s the same old thing we did

last week and the week
before.

Glen Armstrong (he/him) holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters. His poems have appeared in Conduit, Poetry Northwest, and Another Chicago Magazine. 

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