Two Micros by Ari Wolff

"Baby Donald Trump Comes to Preschool with a Hooters T-shirt" and "Plum Island"

Baby Donald Trump Comes to Preschool with a Hooters T-shirt

and plastic cell phone
before I can ask he’s in
terrorizing the other babies
demanding his croissant
imitating the faces of adults
egging each moment on
he believes he’s the fox
and it’s his dinnertime
he believes he’s the barn
and all the animals inside
he’s the farmer’s favorite gun
the wind and the water
the village he’s the sun
no naptime story
he’s absent from

Plum Island

Fresh gauze. Sleeping geese.
Frost fights the toes for security.
Abandoned airport, blossoms of ice
swell across the runway. I’m calling
from the moment before you realize
your voice has a sound you can’t hear.
You can’t hear. Swarms dart north.
Each infallible minute inflates.
I circulate the popular omens.
Lepidolite. Lemongrass. Goose
feathers line the floor. I teach
the songs for keeping warm.

004. Charmander

But I was attracted to that molten core. Into it, I’d disappear completely.

Guns, Surfers, and Pop Sculpture

It is the first week of fall, and Venice smells like sagebrush. Kevin Ancell, the Dogtown street kid turned renaissance painter, is smoking outside the gallery, telling how this building was “the original boathouse for the gondolas.” In a couple of hours, much of the California surf community, mobilized by Kelly Slater’s latest social media post, will flood the space.