Poetry by Morgan Boyle

                  ​​photoscarce CC



Clang Clang Clang

i am exquisitely archingly stupid
being so stupid is warm and soft
that moment before deep sleep in wool socks in winter
i am michelangelo’s sistine chapel level of stupid
worldwide tourist attraction stupid
they’re coming from far and wide cause
there's a new heaven in town
and that’s stupidity baby!
i am getting dumber and more free by the day! 
wanna see the new heaven i've set up?
i built it on the job
i've got 8 hrs 5 days a week to create it
imagine what you can do in that amount of time
i’m building stupid towers to the stupid clouds
this shit is babylonian
wanna gaze down from the towers
touch the clouds
stick your big stupid head in?
slide the sweat off your palms and slip me $5
$5?!? 
i know i know but that’s capitalism 
that’s the stupid reality
you think god’s up there not charging a price to get into heaven?
you think that price is really lifelong faith?
the price is as green as the day the plants were born
and i’m cutting you a deal
get with it 
get on it
fuck it
but that’s what stupidity’s for 
isn’t it

this is the way in which to exist in an ending world
stupidity is the magic road around the competing miseries of the catch-22 contrarian impasse
the two options:
sunburn your face stare down the dying planet occasionally find the wherewithal to whip your
                ever crushing sense of existential dread into acts of morbid crackly hedonism
or
swallow the rising tides, don’t watch the glacier documentary, ignore that trickle of sweat down
              the back of your neck in march, you’re excelling at your job, your relationship, you’re
              having a baby!
what fresh hell to be smart at a time like this!
stupidity is so much work sometimes it really takes it outta me
building this heaven
i think i’m in need of an apprentice
i think i’m never gonna go to work again
never gonna hop on the subway for anything but enjoyment purposes
will not be dipping existential dread in iced coffee anymore while wondering if i'm going to be late because who knows where the c train goes when it disappears in the tunnel
did you know?
the c train goes to the stupid void
this is fine and acceptable if you think about
the current state of the world
we should all be the c train somedays 
the c train doesn't wanna work
the c train doesn't give a shit
the c train'll leave you stranded underground at clinton washington on monday morning only to show up three days later after you've been sucking down bodega bagels and watching the skin on your knuckles stand up 
here it comes just rolling in crash crash on thursday morning you're 3 days late to work? 
shoulda taken a car to the heights
can't afford a car?
fuck you
your finances aren't the c train's problem
the c train has seen the void baby
what've you seen? manhattan?
what's manhattan when compared to the infinite
the c train carries more importance than your dumb job
but you knew that
that's the fear i guess
the dread
when you were a kid you'd never thought you'd be 29 comparing yourself to the brooklyn thru uptown local
you never thought you'd come up wanting
but no worries, there’s no comparisons when you’re stupid
the c train is just the train and you are just you 
and it doesn’t matter that the c train can’t catch the plague like you can
c train’s body isn’t wet and messy like yours 
third rail’s merely movement rather than a death sentence
the pandemic doesn’t mean to shit to the c train
and for you without stupidity?
for you without stupidity death is real and mourning is ever present
for you they are dying
people are dying 
people keep dying
people won’t stop dying
my cousin is dead
over a week ago my cousin died
felt my bones, mortality, rattling
took a day off work
no shelving books in the silence no building stupid heaven
hottest day of the year mixed my tears into the ocean
sparkling sea under the sun what a way to be sad
cousins aren't covered by my work's bereavement policy
bereavement policy lists family members for which 
it is appropriate to take time off to mourn
unfortunately, they tell me in a crisp email, cousins are not on the list
a day taken off to mourn the deceased daughter of your aunt 
is, in the eyes of your work, 
a holiday
hottest day of the year baking in blasting sun
cousin is dead
you are on holiday
watch a nebraskan funeral in new york from your office
leave in the middle to cover the desk
there were no extra days for you to take 
to sit the funeral in person
sit at the desk
face the public
wrestle with the human act of mourning on your public face
the public is human i am human it is human to mourn
fuck it
this is the age of stupidity
the age of mourning
fuck it
mourn at the desks
there aren’t enough hours bestowed in our lives that we own
we are needed desired wasted at the desks
and i’m letting snot flow freely now
down and out from under my pandemic mask
there’s not enough time for the mourning we’ve gotta do
so it’s time to sit at the desks and sob with wild abandon
this is efficiency baby
this is capitalism at its finest
this is the best multitasking you’ve ever seen
this is the way
this is en route
this is the seeing and the being seen 
this is the road to new heaven

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Morgan Boyle is a poet from Nebraska currently residing in Ridgewood, Queens. She has works published in Yes Poetry and The Red Wheelbarrow and has a poem and video forthcoming from Peach Mag. Her poem Witnter After Fall was voted poem of the month at the Brooklyn Poets Yawp in March 2021. She can be found on Instagram at morgan.le_fay. 

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