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2 poems by Jenkin Benson

Actually, I Want To Be A Regionalist Poet

a place that never smells good

the ease the fine ease the ease pleasant fair

nitrate haul

nothing miniaturistic about it

oh yknow it’s between

chicago minneapolis st. louis kansas city omaha

so much more mids than that

the glucose middletose

23 million hogs

they stiff their snouts to the center

much more accurate than you

headstands in savory mire

on my 10th birthday

i saw a bicyclist straw walked alive by a combine

evil folk physics

low pressure draft then winnowing maw bars

always reminded of that insipid meme

“don’t perceive me”

the phenomenology of it all goofed up

well actually eyeballs don’t decay

the sink the loam the grief

9 foot stalks fruiting pupils gaping

u. maydis galls out of my sockets

cyanophyta whisper kevin costner fun facts

between major suture lines

county lines like butchered fossa

concentrated animal feeding operations

condemned animal festering order

statue of general winfield scott made out of butter

their tongues settle

There Will Be Some Distressing Materials Forthcoming

you’re naked

setting on me

what desire what

might imagine grasp

the odds of you scavenging love

and contracting naegleriasis

from a nasal irrigator

are roughly equivalent

much to the displeasure of my

unincarnatable apertures

self-sacring esoterics keep trying

to sell me phlegmatic expressionist

portraits made with loam and thrush

and a set of kolinsky sable brushes

purchased for them by their fathers

as a christmas gift in 2019 their

fathers work honestly pretty

high up at metlife and they

must never tell anyone this but they

constantly envision how easy

it would be to

surely indie sleaze evidences

how there is no problem

of evil

only evil

the lyric the mouth sounds

i note denature i elide

the low toner the stanzas

i swallow i break unnature

the sertraline meter the 9am diet coke

i track face i type change

the dactylic growth the septic line

i open for i simultaneously submit

ergonomic unassigned office

collaboration ideacenter

filled with sputum

airbus a320 filled

with excelsome model

spreadsheeters and

they’re all reading

that frank o’hara poem

the one with the coffee and the

cigs and the hemicranious love

vitae sigil’d by syndica

lucrative neologisms

the monk who invented

the word “liminal”

in the dirt

you don't even fuckin

understand the

rotting he's onto

the most next shit


Jenkin Benson is a 2nd year PhD student at the University of Notre Dame. He principally studies the creative interchange between Welsh and Irish modernists. You can find links to his poetry here:

These poems were selected by Anthropocene guest editor Tom Branfoot


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