A list of sex offenders in your area
Some poems by Alan Fielden this week and next
Alan Fielden is a Korean English poet and playwright and over the next two weeks we’ll be publishing some of his raucously well-observed stuff, starting with these two list themed ones ahead of a reading he’s doing at Mahler Witt Studios for his upcoming collaboration with Monitor Books. R
List of Sex Offenders ‘List of Sex Offenders in Your Area’ in my inbox I pay up. At night I hack Their protuberances, I have no family. When the police come I’m watching environmental documentaries, it is too hot for coral polar bears should be fat It’s so sad. In prison I am a hero it never felt like this when I was married I don’t even smoke. If I get out before I die I will go on the show X Factor and just talk for 2 minutes about mass coral bleaching.
A List I made a list of my five hundred and forty seven Facebook friends and divided them by race gender sexual orientation occupation and religion some I married some I misplaced some changed their names or were lynched some had their passports stamped and some took home parts of the wall as souvenirs I divided them by whose birthdays I remembered and those I didn’t by whether I knew them from before or after by ex-lovers and current crushes by who I wish was family who I wish wasn’t by the physically endearing the belles of the ball the ones who had ambitions and those we no longer seem to mention the ones we laugh with and the ones we laugh at the ones who are artists and the ones who had been artists the ones who have paid a price and those to whom I owed much the ones that would make good fathers or you could trust with your plants the ones who can read palms could teach you to dance to flirt to roll a cigarette the ones we all know are sociopaths and are doing really really well the ones who were at my birthday and the ones who sent cards I split the list in half between those who are categorically better nicer kinder sweeter gentler tenderer more kissable superior representatives of the human condition and the rest and all of you were in the second group I drew names out of a hat and made them promises I put your voodoo dolls to the firing squad of my incomprehensible bedtime summary of unbearable unbearable unbearable self imposed circumstances I lost twelve of you to the winter a third more were lost to rain names running like mascara from lined paper to the drain I divided you into who would cross the road or walk by who would still say hi at a party donate blood or spinal juices I made a pie chart of the frequency of dreams I imagine you creatures have five hundred or zero a year and I counted who I’ve seen naked for real or dreaming and who I’ve never seen laugh or how many times and those graphs vaguely correlate I crossed off names in the order so far departed and then estimated until no one was left just black lines like a kid’s drawing of a ladder I called a name but she didn’t answer so I thought about him but that’s all done now so I called you but no luck so I called him and he told me the whole sad story the long version over coffee for six years then I thought about calling her but we were never really friends and that’s what gave it power so in the end I called you and it’s good it’s good yes to see you it’s warming some day but so much it’s good it’s good underneath to see there’s a bruising in you that knows the bruising in me. - Alan Fielden