spliff

every time you mourn a republican
a kitten chokes to death
and it’s back to school
in the smoke of productivity
there’s a pillow in a trash can
in front of my building
houses are for sale up & down
the make-believe
what do you want
a new career
a box fan in the window
a box of old how-to
books on proof
in the pudding
a televised-ass life
gas mileage alone
in the dark
a last laugh that lets you
sleep
and beyond what dollar
do you stop meaning
what you say
and wake up on a cruise
where the ocean says leave me alone
from the gutted prayer
in your throat
proving your puppethood
enough to renounce
the profit motive
forever
so we can be friends
and i can stop trying
to solve
my own murder
which is a real drag
since i’m still alive
waiting in line
for my certificate of salvage
from the department of motor vehicles
on a tuesday
if i have to scrape out
someone else's dream
to bury it properly
i will scrape out
someone else's dream
to bury it properly

fantasy

ask me about the labor of liking
a narcissist
and maybe we’ll get to the present
which was whose idea
or my old foolish hope
that one moment of trust would
overcome the relentless branding
of every single person
that is the constant erasure
of difference
and therefore of commonality
that wherever you go in public
you’re a customer feeding
another customer their status
and that you’re expected to smile
for the camera
that that’s normal
that celebrities are gods
who aren’t worried about nazis
or the democrats who serve nazis
while chiding the working class
for not voting
for someone else’s money
what would happen if we stopped
petting the newsfeed
what if there’s a respect that’s only
attainable through solidarity
and what if that solidarity is only
attainable in a street
where you cannot own or control
or manipulate another person
where there’s no such thing
as a president
and presence means mutual aid
and what if this street made us
talk in new ways
and our words led to new kinds
of pleasure that we can barely
imagine right now
and someone said i’m searching
for a home that’s not just a drug
at sunset
and what if we got addicted
to this street
like one can get addicted
to someone who fucks them right
and what if this addiction
started pouring from one street
to another to another
and the streets were full for days
and days that never end
and what if in these days all the pain
and betrayal and abandonment
in every single person’s past
fed one strange collective ego
and in one breath
we stopped taking shit and got each other’s backs
and we rose up like an ocean
and what if in this fantasy
that makes me breathless
at the thought of the end of being used
and the great release of pain
that would be so just
we’d have to make up a new word
for justice—what if even then
the zombie still wanted a cut—

the zombie still wants a cut
so i return my body to my body
to say what it needs to say—

you can use what i love
against me
you can kick my head
into the curb

you can use what i love
against me
you can kick my head
into the curb

you can use what i love
against me
you can kick my head
into the curb

you can lie into the mirror forever
you can you use what i love
against me

you can gaslight the ocean forever
you can kick my head into the curb

you can gaslight the ocean forever
you can kick my head into the curb

you can have yourself
for dinner
you can have yourself
for dinner

the street will still be there
the ocean will be here
the language will be made
the people will be free

nightmare

because of the pain of your grievances
said the administrator
i will hide behind this brand
as if it were a shield
from the nightmare
that sustains my ego

reviews

"Did the dream of speed begin with the birth of the car? Or was that the dream of escape–of hopping in the car and going, leaving your life and responsibilities behind? And is this desire for speed and escape a particularly American thing?" Gina Myers wrote about General Motors for Fanzine--read it here.

And Noel Black wrote about General Motors and Stephanie Young's new book at Hyperallergic: "Taken together, It’s No Good Everything’s Bad and General Motors feel like a reawakening of old, important truths about labor in new, urgent, and direct poetic forms." Read the whole thing here.

in the kitchen

Here's one of three chase scenes recorded by Alina Pleskova for the sitting room series--listen/watch more here: https://twitter.com/sittingrmseries

SITTING ROOM SERIES 006: Ryan Eckes (@ryaneckes) - Philly, PA. Poem 1 of 3, excerpt from “Chase Scenes” pic.twitter.com/HU3VGIkjz9

— sitting room series 🛋 (@sittingrmseries) March 30, 2018

General Motors

This new book is now in the world, thanks to Split Lip Press. 

To celebrate, I'll be reading with Laura Jaramillo on Saturday, April 14th, 7:30pm at Morning Glory Diner, 10th & Fitzwater, in the FOH'LL reading series. 

Booksellers, you can order copies at a discount directly from the press right here.

Coming soon

from Split Lip Press - you can pre-order it here.