The Brooklyn Rail

MAR 2017

All Issues
MAR 2017 Issue



United Artists


I leaf thru VANIDADES
peeling open the perfume ads
and rubbing the cardstock
on my wrist in the waiting rm.









Science-Fiction –Fiction


Pastor Mallella came back to say
Ashley and I can bring the pencils to his confirmation
students now
but we’re crying
we’ve been copying
our faces in the rectory machine


Jesus is like a caterpillar in his chrysalis Pastor
Mallela says flapping his arms in his grey
two piece suit and his curly


hair plastered to his forehead under red
lights for a half
mile he rolls up
the window of the fourdoor Taurus

we’re so close like
Taurus and Kia Sephia

Pastor Mallella said meet me in GL
what for?
To talk shit


When I won a giant Shrek at the Dade County youth fair
I took it home and named it Higher And Higher

When Mallella ate the brownie from last time
he drove in mad circles like in movies
hanging out the driver’s door and laughing
on Krome Ave
his curls grazing the lite grey street

No eye contact with Ashley or
we’ll start up again
the __________ CD from Columbia House
you can keep it
you can keep it


Now’i’m alone
like Aeon Flux
in the 20th floor ballet studio
on 8th ave in a black sweater
talking on the Blackberry Curve skipping around

Que todo saldrá
todo saldrá       bien ya verás               que si
                            que si que siiiiiiiiiii


                            Can I say something

                            Lettuce pray



Already a subscriber
you are my light
my ethernet blinking blue

Clueless Last Action Hero
Stop Or My Mother Will Shoot
the Sony cordless right out of my hand
useless as it is without a pink line
to wind about myself

Bless you
four people say that:
Bless you!       
when I sneeze once in political theory
or environmental science lab

Someone emerges on a balcony overhead
and calls my names

Someone pulls me up by the collar
when I fall asleep in the GC lobby

In art history someone named Lucas
calls out everything,
Prof. Chauncey begins to say this fresco
is from—POMPEII!
and Chauncey’s like
thank you Lucas


To say what one is one
must say what one is not
to assert one’s image is to assert
it on the world

At the college I hear myself say something about the “fabric”
of this or that and am amazed personally
that I have for so long stood
saying things like this
winding and winding

When did we care
about the sky
every day we talk about it
and how it changes
& say it’s affecting us  & #mood

When did we care so much even
after mom said you know that
one day you will not care like this
the way you do now

Agnosticism levels peak post-grad
and when you don’t appreciate
being told your every excitement
is the holy ghost

For all you know you are your own holy ghost:
your own a/s/l


Leo died
Leo died twice

Ashley and I started a book club it was simple
go blindly
to the fiction section
and pull whichever spine


Not flimsy
not weird

Not Guantanamo
not Bay


When this new toothbrush wow compared
to my old one
it feels like 4 wheel drive

You miss everything
you even miss missing

Remember Ctrl ?
Remember Alt ?
Remember Delete ?

Who beats a game on Sega? Who does that
I walk in and find you on level 29
Sonic doing all this crazy shit
and turning gold.

If we talk about it we talk
about oblivion
detangling the power cord and inserting it
feels Precambrian.

Write into the radical vulnerability

Help in the second avenue
help in the third avenue
help in the fifth

Walking a kind of writing
writing a kind of writing

In the MET
not saying
one can’t not say
one can refrain from saying
when one wants to say
and one is told they’ve fucked it up

So then one is silent
and one is told nevertheless to speak

When did we forget
Tim Allen
and his way
of improving

I think about his mug shot
in the Immaculate Conception
church on 23 st

and that the TV took him in—

who gets taken in by screens
which confessions are /sin/ and
who is dead before entering
the booth.






Connie Mae Oliver

Connie Mae Oliver is a venezuelan poet and artist, and founding editor of FEELINGS. her second book of poems, science fiction fiction, is being published this year by Spuyten Duyvil Press.


The Brooklyn Rail

MAR 2017

All Issues