"Moderator Cantabile" by Corina Copp

COMPANY EDITIONS is an independent publisher of poetry and visual art. The journal, Company, was founded in 2013 and is published three or four times per year. We will also be publishing chapbooks beginning in late 2016. Company Editions is based in Athens, GA, Iowa City, IA, and Cambridge, MA. You can contact the editors by emailing editors@companyeditions.com.





Underpainting moderates ff

or open pores watch out

Pupils cash out when gray

droplets form inside, syphilis

was innovative and lasting

Sounds horrifying but she’s

licking herself. Expended re-

production makes her lie else-

where pull out of where I am

cut Badly, not just the wrong

sexual act, but the only one I

don’t care about as a

Topic…ars mutandi era’s fuck-

ing with living to be gifted for

love, tightly lashed. Every word is

a Lie, including omnipotence

Dominoes in French dusklip

of the camels. Voice of the shutt-

le in trying to whet now, dry-

ing castigated puppet leader in

otherwise Knockout Tan. She

tried to love him, shimmering

on the boat she said she found

the text beautiful, anyway, ‘and yet

the time does not disappear’ is

an aligned horizon important to

a poet who renounced her own

talent. So has satiety blunted

the appetite of our eyes. Red

feeler now is the hero. Philistine

had a secret she carried from

chamber to Realism, reddening

Shadow runs across her fore-

head, misconceiving the prop-

erties as permanent, only

to discover the Moderator



Were two reasons for this se-

lection, one, was to—he said,

we don’t have much time

to think on Personal Dignity,

Little in the way of alcoholic

trace, if you accept what is

Bad. By your sweet ears, rum-

bling born blood ambergris

leaking strips the same color

I want to rip off the Nylon

and be her veddy good teets

said in her CIA purposes mag.

Derivatives will push from

the back, forgiveness a cut in-

to linearity, oh how long.

How Long in historical time

King’s horses said, Oh 1 HR

and 52 minutes, Long Good

Bye, if I was thirty I felt effaced

I sung-heaped in Grand

Central, was late for the

ceremony I’d never be a part

of, knowing not peace of

twilight over the shoulder of

the woman I love. Remembered

instead all the times I felt like,

apathetic while walking

home in the AM after an

incident. Proud of the book-

shelf for holding up so many

twinges of arthritis, Erika hits

Mother wantingly, but not

wantonly. MY hands tremble

YOUR hands let myself go

blank. All the women are in-

scribed, star groups saw me

but no interest in holding.



If no judgement to attract

the attention of the court

If no judgement in public,

Forgiveness at show trial

Placid state of shrink what is

kept must be adulterated

Pay attention, in the Hericlidae,

Demophone says POOR GIRL!

to self-immolated Macaria’s

face…poor almost burnt peg

board…Take care, avoid

avoid…take care, Avoid…

It’s tending to it. I tend to see

it that way. As if ‘that’ were

‘Bad.’ As in, I tend to give mat-

ernal and sexual security at

once, ‘as if’ ‘that’ ‘were Bad.’

Faithlessly, passively, obedient-

ly not enough when night

ambrosia’s brainy gulfs melts

And over your heart I watch

And over my division of night

or people-watch your Heart

For Dior, time is precious, pour

cologne over your arms to

wake us. We have a few more

pines if year’s boredom and

appear to be serious,

through doubt a munchkin bit

off his tit and he crieeed

for a magical negativity, Dig-

nity—he said he’d give

the blood well I told him I didn’t

want it, you didn’t want that

blood you made a decision,

but your life—are living it along-

side and ahead of your being

is your life in accord with warm…

Alongside the bank walls were

Adriatic and adjacent Alpine

slices of cheekbone he got

tired of hurting and simultaneous-

ly Writing it



Underpainting moderator  ff

Walks into room where we

all warm, this man’s eyes fill

with blood, watch struggle

up until his cheeks, cheeks

silver stain blood, my val-

ence absent and he re-

enacts the ritual performed in

hammer room where bare, I had 

had heartbreak up to here, Ear-

Rings of Madame De, been bro-

ken-hearted up to here, broken

hearts since heart maggots got

grisailled, you know that car can

not heal its own puncture,

and have been flesh-

breaker and less since I

made sculp my trade redact, He

killed his wife and his baby, as

though there were no one listening.

I keep talking about the peas

It’s just how I like it shipped

I don’t want one pea a

day; I just like to feel elite

and depraved so I might

Physically rescue the blank

Even though my means be weak

Offensive, cloudy…commensurate

with Fear of wonderful, divine




Hot Sunned, feelings up to They

that have the artistic impulse

to hurt, What I see is the end, but

wood stirrer in my good Parallelism

on blue line plane <<I remember sob-

bing into our iPad Minis,>> sd victim,

now much stronger in losing her

leg with her sister’s, good thing

sister in the Keys, We’re just so

out of felt, carelessly we turn

away. And walk away. Style

What I see is the end, but it’s eyes

puma-abundant, pre-

sealed, dappled, adored

Put SNOW in my

mouth, lack of reportage <<Snarls in

Heat>> Unfastening her golden hair/

black dress, her grave, pale

face, <<Anna started off to walk

across the desert, so she might reach

the mountains>> It might have been

thought that among the skulk

she’d reap bionic force or a large

chair but Not desiring The

Recognition she fell to her knees

and could spy material form our

brother over again in mount not

having murdered yet, or rather not


ING AT FIBBER, and never (Co-

Mates?) or you really get it, get pity

out. If pity bakes—

without vision, for Vision will include

massacre if given Vulnerability +

repetition compulsion or lighter,

ballet is a good example of plea-

sing. Let us open the window, please

Likelihood a violent squall of wind?

Note, to serve



Notice herself ever, neither abjure

obedience in moderation, moderately

and melodiously, moderately and melo-

diously, moderately devour, crowd con-

tinues to distort medical performance.

Pear glow birds on this Dry Night.

Did you have a dream your voice

was gone or lose the ability to write?

hhhhHis wife set chest stimulants

I feel my question has been answered ele-

gantly, but to end erotophobia is Looking

for pretend too greatly to make it, I see a

finish and am holding only pepper-cream

as I ask a question the answer to which I

know will hurt my feelings only hard again-

st a show of riding it. What…in your case…

makes you…the sleek baby jaguar

has short legs, an elongish body, and

a sculpted tail. Ears are short and

rounded. It hears feeding a baby bird

an orange wedge and from its MacLaren

tips Tupperware’s blue Whale, <<may-

be it will sail into pink again!>> A comment on



YOU…! Feel hanging as por-

trayed, for days I nourished. Held back swells

making a broad blue, she’ll get severe-

ly blue, having blueshift. Blueshift will help

you leave anything, when to leave any

one. When to leave when lands

in the Rover. Infliction of pain upon

the weak and sickly is so saying

Coat’s not concolor,

With, at most, a hole in the wall.

I’ll get it. Will this vision through

the pipe aide that vision of

Fake labor because it’s not ‘that

bad,’ just won’t infinite universe a

Curling that turns over in my arms

False, then, at its seat of emotions,

font of nourishment, garment section.

Gray purpose curls up entirely, and dies,

In my arms, tonight’s. Dysphagia remains (

choked on it frozen before a leading

new novelist and curl up entirely, neck-

lied felled a TV in prechromatic zig-

zags that know how to watch). This is fun,

I’ve never had such a, a great timed

commitment in juniper cotton

kicking Latin of that garden. Distress

cooling pre-co-mates changes, cope

leaves derousal of your inch to fuck be-

hind not behind but that I’m not one

for anal bleach, by which I mean Unicorn

Arras behind which I get anal bleached or

else look at this grace and tell me it’s not

heavy curtains for success in the Looks

Dept. Clinique is held in a private house. If

she’s bedridden, it’s the labia privately

caught in gold geometric earrings, form-

er stolen pearl droplets. Avail-

able geometric helpful, who

could. Positive freedom born as

<<DOW’S UP>> Pebbles sat in shallow

wet sand shapes <<RAIN LYRICS

LIPS>> <<Can you make it home…

OK?>> <<Can you,

make it home OK?>> <<Actually I can’t

…move from this spot>> <<What

will…happen to you?>> I’ll suffer from

disintoxication. <<What else?>> Blind

man’s buff’s demon IT also hold-

ing a full cup of tea. I’ll fucking touch

her smooth arm as it nears my chest

and, jarring it, all my smooth chest wet

with jasmine; her arm rests, servicing.

<<I was brought up as…smothered,

are you an avoidant too?>>

Covered? <<Let’s re-

late as a person to a couple

wilfully posing near a Dodge’s butter

lettering.>> Moral tighter so

oyster past hope’s. <<I mean…not

the slightest discomfiture.>> Desire

purple conference while you sex-

ualize yourself, in repeat pebbles

sat in shallow wet sand shapes

of themselves and the tide onyx,

because it’s night. Urgent tide in

puma’s watery statement eyes, su-

icide trick. Purple confers with

Vs on bright thigh, take the notes

now <<No, she who

I would to fuck really respects

you, lovebird, giving you credit in my

eyes and denying myself something

so vague, dispirited as a sheet,

and thankless, I can no longer



Guilty in other respects, Hemorrhaging,

for here having types; can that in melan-

cholic cityscapes embrace treeish

pubis as she’s bent over in powdering dead

her friend or is he a bathetic scam?

Is this flock in situ near how-to

her a scam or a charge I’ll keep?

What’s exactly like it, a relief sickle

dream where you keep burning in me?

No-one’s done so since…Sunrise!

<<Shall we let him know I have

I…arrived?>> <For the time I was

carried away by the opinion of those

among who I was.>> Perpetuate the jest

that invited me, I come scrawny with

possible Hog-venom after viewing an

installation called Bedroom that was,

in decreasing white tile, a true bathroom.

Measure of power, this tone of hero

outside as art keeps apparent severity

from spreading it’s Pro-

fessional to direct your daughter in

a brutal rape scene

when I’m trying to look at you

like I love you so that you will look

at sickened art ulterior number

up, chrome, when triumvirate

and nude in Boarding Gate, she

goes ahead, whirls scimitar in psychic

concealment or writes rule for a news-

paper, Lips lickt put to-

gether outside blow the ice-cream tune in

tunetime with the truck as it sounds a Bomb

Pop song. Frozeburn my gorgeous

constrained kicked mouth and

useless real free tongue halfway down

Original Bomb Pop

Torn to red and clear island

What we often call the intellect

cannt blush on Rosy Cross

Pavement’s too damp

As deeply and truly as we want to neglect

the stupid solicit. I do


Corina Copp is the author of The Green Ray (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2015), the pamphlet ALL STOCK MUST GO (Shit Valley Verlag, Cambridge, UK 2014), Miracle Mare (Trafficker Press 2013), Pro Magenta / Be Met (UDP 2011), and other works. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Cabinet, BOMB, Prelude, SFMOMA’s Open Space, The Claudius App, Triple Canopy’s Corrected Slogans: Reading and Writing Conceptualism, and elsewhere. A three-part performance, The Whole Tragedy of the Inability to Love, has been presented in excerpts at Home Alone 2, NYC Prelude Festival, Dixon Place, and the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council. She is a curator at the Segue Foundation, and lives in Brooklyn.