In the city, in demiurge,

passions become production’s manifest

archive. To flip through electronic files

filled with everything that makes

violence possible

in time of peace as in times of.

This is the whole of both control

and accident, the occidental

where the sun sets

and archives itself as

Occidental Life Insurance Company

or (for other uses) Occidental Petroleum.

Imagine, the event of the polis formed from

open oceans. It begins with naval routes

and other grids that make motion,

the metropole’s predicate

and prediction. The picture of a vehicular

swarm. Dromos: race course.

The glacis. Glass partitions

hinting at sight and dust,

innumerable dust.


I suburb abstract triangles

into dust and other accumulations.

I signal the enclosure of population.

Given this, the universe becomes redistributed,

becomes loathe and artifice and fissure,

the code by which everyday comestibles

become artifact. Touch the highway’s

erogenous zones –

feel their heat. Brand it as passion

or the impulse to crash.

By now we are speeding through

to the death drive’s

afterlife – unconscious ringing

after one has gone to sleep.

Dronology (sleep). Nike

(Just Do It). The somnambulist

forgetting his shoes again.


Social intercourse

is like a ping

that follows you down the street.

I remember palimpsests

and other GUI’s,

and in this am made secure.

I become hasp

recalling our transfers,

slotted hinged metal plate

secured by a pin. I have dashes

and try to be accessible, pre-format

our immediate contact.

Some parts may still require assemblage.

Heaven’s assembly: a post-Fordist utopia

of and for objects.

Cars can be redesigned

like athletic shoes or military vehicles.

Heaven’s bunker: an enclosed fortress

of pure logistics, pure war,

both binding and fissure.

The city

is heaven’s bunker.


The image of advertising strategists

pouring over the works of Guy Debord.

Inadvertent glances

passing the street

in ether passing. The masses

are the multitude of passerby

meeting the burning wind

a pack of dogs

stagnant water.

The distance between commerce

and propaganda

gets moving.

The distance within stratagems

urban franchises

petals on a wet black

stockades and impregnable fortresses.

Faces withdraw

damask shades.

JULIA MADSEN is a multimedia poet, teacher, and tutor. She received an MFA in Literary Arts from Brown University and is currently a doctoral student in English/Creative Writing at the University of Denver. Blue collar born and raised, she is currently thinking about technology and the working class. She has shown video poetry at Outlet Gallery in Brooklyn, NY, and her video work has been featured in VICE. Her poems and multimedia work have also appeared or are forthcoming in Flag+Void, Drunken Boat, Caketrain, Deluge, Dreginald, Small Po[r]tions, Tagvverk, Black Warrior Review, Devil’s Lake, Versal, Cutbank, Alice Blue Review, Cartridge Lit, TL;DR Magazine, PoetrySeen and elsewhere.