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Philip Sorenson

By September 18th, 2020No Comments

from Work Is Hard Vore


may/june is pre-skeletal: waiting for petals to render to possess us to go it’s an entrance to caves
where they keep the body in dry ice and salt sixteen weeks of the thorn and then when the smell
has gone they’ll resubmit us to objection:

our use is when the graves have been rebottled

hence is the giant cone erupting

from the underground

and lilac

as the now lifts itself into the sky

to turn us into ourselves or the perfect simulation via data as selves, mineable




moving from home to home
from parents to the castle to the economy

a thread of guts and otherwise an “if”
always running in return to oneself

where is the you

you find in the image of you
are you with your mother

which mother?
your face started by you


We only just learned to make gothic machines: a caterpillar that eats dill is the black swallowtail butterfly but it eats the dill and puts holes in leaves, and the homeowner is upset because of “how it looks.” The homeowner purchases BioAdvanced Tree & Shrub Protect & Feed. He purchases it at Home Depot. Home Depot is a workplace for 400,000 people. BioAdvanced is an insecticide. It contains Imidacloprid, which is a neurotoxin and remains in the soil for a year. Imidacloprid was developed by Bayer CropScience. Bayer is a workplace. Bayer employs 100,000 people. Imidacloprid is responsible for the collapse of honey-bee populations. The white buds are full of neurotoxins. It is a starry night. When we work, we are bidden. We are made as we work and so our becoming is a poisonous instance. The workplace is our home. Our families are delinquent. We consistently encounter the suggestion that nature is opposed to civilization and so too outside of capital accumulation. This is not true. There is no such thing as nature. There is being. When the we become terminal. We are bidden. Then the homeowner can put the neurotoxin on the dill. If there is a gothic garden, it is covered in black cloth. This is where the face is revealed and is laboring. In this castle garden, there will be red and black. The garden will be itself. It will be full of nighttime and volcanic rock. It will be melancholy and covered in creatures. The person in the garden that is itself will be a part of the garden, not different from it. The person will not be full of goods.





a goose runs by

a boy runs by

a neck coils and uncoils
the boy and the goose fall down the well

into the image of their falling down a well

a golden caterpillar
talks the image

into the we

we picture
crouching under


beaks pecking at painted grapes
videos of the man in the tree

posted to reveal that work had ended

to be eaten

summer meals
falling forever into an image of themselves falling forever

a glass bowl and drapes

wind rushing through a hot bus/ the impossibility of taking off a wet shirt
a snake coiled in a puddle

our sick apple tree
covered in aphids and the ants that harvest the aphids’ shit

which is honeydew

the ants carry their herd into the tree that now looks very ill

and so I break a promise that I’d made to myself and I set poison out and I watch the ants line up to carry the poison into their nest and I imagine them sickening and their larvae alone and starving and I imagine the great black wasps that fill our garden floating to the top of the apple tree toward the aphids that have no ants there to care for them and the wasps will sting the aphids and carry them off to their underground rooms





Philip Sorenson is the author of two full-length collections: Of Embodies(Rescue Press, 2012) and Solar Trauma(Rescue Press, 2018). He is also the author of a shorter collection, New Recordings (Another New Calligraphy, 2018). He co-edits The Journal Petra with Olivia Cronk.