Hunter Gagnon

Quarantine poem #60 yes mama Ellen I look at Johns Hopkins every day too

1,724,736 confirmed 104,938 deaths 390,335 recovered (April is moving)
503,594 US It takes convincing unfortunately for this
                                                                        to be all it is
                                  the report / the diligence
IN ITSELF a humiliation
              before vast math
                  the required bowing of the human
    but all it is, really is, is
nothing
    required
            for the American: “I’m concerned about russian viral propaganda
      during this pandemic. Their main goal
                        is to lessen trust
        in our institutions. I have tracked the web of this. The prism. The
    lines unfolding
                it is like a flower”
for the American a cigarette in a sunburnt
                                                              hand
                                                  in a crème pickup truck
                          in the grocery parking
                               lot leering at the many-colored masks
                                                                        of walking others
                                                              their
                                              uncertain
                  steps “Uncertainty should be despised. As should any
                        productive action. In this prison. Any action is just labor
                        for the warden’s hand. We only want what dignifies us which
                        is contempt
                        with certainty.” the individual
            is easy
                        to remove the solution
            is easy
                              to doubt
                                          for the American
        play ultimate frisbee outside
              FEMA hq a change
                                            from the menthols and black&
                                                              milds
                  of New Jersey, the superstructure brown + slumping “Our death
                                        is greatest now
                                                                  [10 years late]. This
                                                                                            is the last time
                                                                  we win.
                                                                      Appreciate it.” For
                                        the
                                                              American.

Quarantine poem #18 on how verified facts reach for the day

407,485 confirmed 18,227 deaths 104,234 recovered
49,768 US (3rd place) 3/24/20 in the morning Johns
Hopkins
On wifi signal, then
The day came the night came
It fed on stars
fed itself
and all the wheels of the night
rode the sheep field
the big house threw its glow like copper spears
thudding into the body of the woods
shelter in place more strict as of now
spilling yellow blood
all over
screw in hooks
grab head
walk back and forth
bed not
made in clumsy dark
3/25/20 —,— confirmed Johns
Hopkins be
good go
to work buy
a stock sleep with
your head on the bars it’s a
pillow you funny
animal it
works

Hunter Gagnon lives in Fort Bragg, California where he has worked as a State Park Seasonal Aide, a bookseller, and as a poetry teacher for local elementary schools (before the pandemic). He holds a degree in Philosophy and has served in AmeriCorps and FemaCorps.

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