Phillipe Martin Chatelain is the founder of In Parentheses and a poet from New York City with a Master’s Degree in Poetry from The New School. He writes as someone in the tradition of the urban troubadour or the flaneur–wandering, taking notes. He believes that poetry of our generation has taking on a much more digital definition. His series taking shots alone was self published in 2012-2015. (@uptownvoice)
The Kenosha Kid
catch this B where the honeys be,
yikes is this me, “Lost Cosby“
now ask the press to release me
while I’m buzzing
release me like feed
release me through fruit seeds
call me prehistoric
call me anthropomorphic
am I worth four sticks
arrange them in a manner that catches your
is this the way a meme is created
is this the way the dream was cremated
is it still American or should I start writing
poems ignoring adjectives.
i should really edit a poem as I’m hatching it. i should prevent my poems from acting like
matching kin, twins.
loose morals and a loose de nition of sin, that’s
the act we live.
is it too much to ask when I be asking
“can you catch me, Kenosha Kid?”
are you floating on a different globe?
catch this current through an open nose, now get
don’t be lost as what happens switches.
if you think a minutes fast, then you haven’t been
trust me I just want you spinning:
now are we lost or are we winning?
what’s the difference if the mission is more than
(is it true that I got the FBI breathing down my
webpage or is that just something I could say that would make me sound thug?)
catch me on the web
catch me on the net
spin i tell you spin and capture
what’re you, a mix of fortune and mischief?
what’re you, a form of resistance & existence?
find your own answers on the net
whats it like to kick it with a spider?
rather find a spider to kick it with.
split this eight ways,
one for each part of yourself you keep hidden—
each you hides with the flesh it devours
leaving no trace no clue no imprint
of your silk
no evidence that with your velvety twine
you paralyze and kill
if you’re not spinning by now don’t be alarmed
you may have collapsed into a singularity
you now make up all the mass at the center
who knew your web was this strong
it drags and pulls at will
and warms up under this pressure.
the most alarming part is what gets caught:
what grows you
but what of your poison?
has a guest been welcomed with a tainted kiss
until they felt their lungs constrict?
a struggle as they stiffen,
mistaken bites can’t be taken lightly
reading too much into the bitters
caught on what you’re spinning in the night
sprinkle dew before your morning meal
watch me digitize
are you rushing for a reason?
just spin your normal speed
who’s world is this
can’t recognize it
These poems were previously featured in Volume 4: Issue 2 (Summer 2016) of In Parentheses. On sale now.
enter the discussion: