Matthew Cooperman

Poet Matthew Cooperman sits down with Ben to discuss his “American Triptych” which consists of the poems: “Snow Globe”; “No Ode” and “Postlude” that appear in this edition of “Fogged Clarity”. More

No Ode

Matthew Cooperman I. The infinite caste and the soluble membrane, the papers of a wasp. “Earth has nothing I desire besides you…” Not a hand nor a bird nor a bicycle, never the one for delay… Systole: remembering the days of his youth it was ba-boom, not happening. As in square, ba-boom, the box. Not… More

Snow Globe

Matthew Cooperman It was January 6, I was six years old, which would’ve made it the Sixties, and it was snowing. Snow filling trash cans like ashtrays. Mom and Dad distantly fighting the giant snowstorm. I jellied the donut in my fist and dragged my Cheeto fingers down the walls of the igloo. Quiet murmur… More

Postlude

Matthew Cooperman Aftermath, if we can call it that, the meaning of the blues all persons’ loves of life discerning the subject and the subject Patois, Patria, whatever— I like to worry my desire how it is pointed unpleasantly at you, an untrained voice with a country Heroes return as food, apocalypse, cars, comics, remix,… More