In JUSTLIKE I LIKE IT, Danielle LaFrance combines poetry and autotheory as a means of targeting ideological infatuation, spilling into an obsession with ideological abolishment. JUSTLIKE I LIKE IT searches for ways to kill and abolish “it,” seeking means to get it done right, even when attempted slowly and stupidly, even if the only way out is death.
LaFrance reads an excerpt from “IT MAKES ME ILIAD,” the first section of JUSTLIKE I LIKE IT, below – and keep scrolling to see the text of the poems, as well!
Rage, it belts like a rooster’s cock. Just another seismic layer.
This attempt to wage war on it as if it were overcome
with contaminating things all too foolishly in the name of
cucumber fulfillment. Hesitate to say what it is instead
kissing & licking the buckle of its wallet over
& over again. Instead liking it like a surgical
hand scrub. Skin bleeds out blotched puños. Too many layers gusta.
This is the fashion & like it or not its in me & you.
Few of us forget this factoid. I’m going to spend everyday of the
Rest of my small life killing it liking it over & over again.
V. JUSTLIKE I LIKE AH WHATCHILLINGBLOWS
Who suffers thanks to its non conflicting balls. Chicks for free.
Huggies drip. Aphrodite blues a tired piece of shit. Whose blues,
clarity of sentence demands worlds of sexual nonsense. Total
giving & surplus strychnine. There is no sleep & I might
die before I like it. Time remiss. It gives me superhuman strength to
discern it. Oh Glory returns to the riot. Now I have
to live life in sext. Where such lines, drawn in concrete, force my hand.
Fight like a man possessed. Suicide bomber, who I am, returns to the riot.
Obsessed with pornography, everyone’s intensities estranged from even
numbers & hedge funds. ¡_Adiós!_ ¡Hasta luego! Forget
about my grandiose ego, my bloated fantasies. Who’s a piece of shit.
XVII. JUSTLIKE I LIKEAGONIZEDMEN
I do not work without armour. No bare stomach saves this body
from these bosses. Today’s delusions brought to me by parasitosis.
Picking at what’s there, stupid. Immune this skin. Dare it bitch.
Itch when this boss is near. Dare dare little one. Skin thickens post
scratch. Cottage cheese build up. Oh Muses, before this body inurns,
Athena reforms Phoenix. Miley so hood, she these boss’s best
friend. Gregor reconciles toe jam on Maundy Thursday. Scrubs post-polished
feet fit for housing. Feminist men really know when they’re talking
aboot me. Got hoes in different area codes. My librarian
goes rogue. She says, “This space don’t fit your addy, please leave
Robert Borden on the floor.” I say to her, “Librarian,
though you fall beside this body, let none shrink from biting.”
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