Two Pieces of Iron Lung
Cognition matriculates through quarantined grids under continuous gaze. To counter-
balance internal optics a preening student mirrors the phenomenal world’s heterotopic
liberations. Who is able to explain their privileged persona suspended between these
interdisciplinary mechanisms of power? Education’s superimposed backdrops reproduce
asymptomatic hierarchies which normalize asymmetrical relations. I am conclusively
annihilated by uncanny protagonists fermenting domesticated objects of disassociation.
Analysis trains prescriptive beacons on the darkness emanating from an absent body.
American ideology projects safe harbor on the back of a multitude hidden away.
Identical aerials redistribute likeminded earrings and uprisings from the television
set for exotic production. This epoch’s industrial sprawl is nothing but a well worn
embrace of a tutor’s reflected border. Our inland empire shutters the exit through
which illuminated sunstones commute beyond Cartesian mantra. I am willingly
imprisoned in a bosom of exogenic ornamentations. Why salvage trinkets left
on antiquity’s excavated wake? Every lighthouse precipitates its theater of rust.
Iron Lung attempts to create a wall of words capable of short-circuiting ideology.
Jim Goar grew up in Tucson, Arizona. He is the author of The Dustbowl (Shearsman Books, 2014), The Louisiana Purchase (Rose Metal Press, 2011), Seoul Bus Poems (Reality Street, 2010), and the chapbook Whole Milk (Effing Press, 2006). He lives in Brooklyn, New York.