James Gendron has some positive things to say about your ass.

And also about ghosts, and the art of not writing.

Discordia does not, it turns out, hate everything. Every other week, we share a piece of work from an artist who's earned our respect.

There is art that moves us, and there is art that moves with us. This is Fellow Travellers.

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On not writing, 2016-2025

The monster who sold
me all my poems
died

RIP monster
I promise to never
stop being afraid

The printer whirrs
Out spills a blank
warm page

Boo

For Rachael

Who was the first ghost to say boo
Who was the first to die and then think, boo
What entity made that wound in sound
Could boo’s first human hearer understand
That they were now mere canvas
For someone else’s masterpiece

Because that’s how I feel when I hear you now
Like a ladder you might descend
Like part of a tunnel you might ride through
Like the backing track for Crying
In the style of Roy Orbison
Waiting to be wracked with your voice

Which even in life had the vibrato
And dimension of a ghost voice
And now places an exclamation point
Behind each silent footfall of a cat
And now draws shards of eternity into the night
Like crushed ice through a straw

∞

After Harper Galvin

Your ass looks like an infinity symbol.
It looks like the soundwave
from a two-syllable word—a spondee.
It looks like this: ( ! )
It’s deeper than a poem written by an expert.
It’s so beautiful, I want to wash my hands
then touch it, then not wash my hands.
I want to smack it with such precision
that the palm print is of sufficient clarity
to read my fortune in. It’s all good news.
Your anus looks like a three-dimensional asterisk.
It makes me think about the fine print.
It makes me think I’m ordering
raw or undercooked meats,
poultry, seafood, shellfish, or eggs.
It reminds me of Barry Bonds’ home run record.
Your asshole looks like the corona of light
around a solar eclipse, and also like a Craisin®.
It looks like a soft round pillow that was
very recently napped on by a sea urchin,
the cinched mouth of a trash bag in which
all my valuables are stored.

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JAMES GENDRON is the author of *Sexual Boat (Sex Boats)* and *Weirde Sister*, both from Octopus Books.

Interested in being a Fellow Traveller? Email your poetry, prose, visual art, etc. to discordia.sucks@gmail.com. We pay (not much), and pieces are collected a few times a year in a small print edition.

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