by Julia V. Hendrickson
::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: :::
it was reported: I saw
a photograph of you
printed in the weekly
paper: Ben-Day bull-dancer:
cocky: facing off the horoscopes:
the color in your cheeks
was vivid: the dots
in your forehead
unusually appealing:
it's hard not to remember
the moiré of your teeth:
startlingly: brightly: radioactively:
self-centered:
you know: I can read
your horoscope just the same
as you: predict your daily
schedule of anxieties:
is the color on
your new newsprint
skin the Day-Glo glow
from shedding
your existential plane:
lighten the load! and me with it?
did you know
that Day-Glo saved
the second war? In part:
I guess: it saved some parts
of planes in painted shellac:
was invented post-concussion:
1934: pre-or-post hallucination
magic tricks in Cleveland dark?
using primarily posters of James Brown:
I have made a blacklight for space:
I have left it in Brazil to make the moon
glow brighter from below:
the moon has turned to violet, Violet:
I am nostalgic for the stage gas lamps:
the moon is lit from below:
green: even: somewhere near
the terrible flush in your cheeks:
caused probably by my methodically
ripping the posters of James Brown:
the newspaper: and you: into even:
metaphorical: flushable strips:
of only the brightest apocalyptic
goodwill predictions:
Julia Vodrey Hendrickson is a writer, visual artist, and curator. She recently released an artists' book, a poetry collection called Grow No Moss, which was designed by Chad Kouri (The Post Family) and printed at Spudnik Press. Julia also is a freelance writer and critic for Printeresting, Newcity, and Art In Print. Primarily based in Chicago—where she is the gallery manager at Corbett vs. Dempsey—she is currently pursuing an M.A. in Art History at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London.