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oh hello poem: Bernadette Mayer’s ‘[Sonnet] You jerk you didn’t call me up’

January 8, 2012

Something that needs discussing more is the lack of women submitting to literary magazines. When I say needs discussing more, I mean I need to discuss it more with people outside my immediate circles of contact because otherwise the talk goes around in circles. Hopefully, Robin Sampson and I will get a series together about this for We Who Are About To Die, but as for right now, I thought some killer lit by Bernadette Mayer (current obsession along with George Oppen) would suffice.

[Sonnet] You jerk you didn’t call me up


You jerk you didn’t call me up
I haven’t seen you in so long
You probably have a fucking tan
& besides that instead of making love tonight
You’re drinking your parents to the airport
I’m through with you bourgeois boys
All you ever do is go back to ancestral comforts
Only money can get—even Catullus was rich but


Nowadays you guys settle for a couch
By a soporific color cable t.v. set
Instead of any arc of love, no wonder
The G.I. Joe team blows it every other time


Wake up! It’s the middle of the night
You can either make love or die at the hands of
                               the Cobra Commander


To make love, turn to page 121.
To die, turn to page 172.
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