Two Poems

by Mark Young

He / doesn't dance / to techno funk

Advances in techno-
logy suggest that I
now only need to
think of scratching
myself to make it so,

or throw away the key-
board & just sit before
the screen to have words
appear. Problem is it's
incomplete technology—

or, at least, my grasp of
it is. I set out to scratch
my ass & pick my nose
instead; & these were not
the words I had in mind.


The mind is an
store. Milk, tam-
pons, catfood at
inflated prices,
a cornucopia of
But the thing you

really want is not
there, unless a
microwaved day-
old sausage roll
manages to some-
how meet the
search criteria.

Mark Young is the editor of Otoliths, lives in a small town in North Queensland in Australia, &
has been publishing poetry for more than fifty-five years. His work has been widely
anthologized, & his essays & poetry translated into a number of languages. He is the author
of over thirty books, primarily poetry but also including speculative fiction & art history. A new
collection of poems, Bandicoot habitat, is now out from gradient books of Finland.

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