Ben Lingemann : Writing

The Uncertain Solution.

The Uncertain Solution.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


We cannot seem to understand that one perceives personally with limited scope, a minuscule allotment, a slippery vision of time. We believe to hold wi..
Contiguous.

Contiguous.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


Languid light fell eery through the fulgent fog bank.Crows called, wheeling in the glare.We swing on rubber and chain taking turns calling back the ch..
Apron Strings.

Apron Strings.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


I am young and small,youthfully slight and skinnywith grasping fingers.You turn your backand begin to trudge away.All I can remember isreaching to han..
Catharsis.

Catharsis.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


I am aplenipotentiaryof your heartbut not your tongueWhich whips with shoutInflictingall thisdoubt--Try not to see my glaring mistakeswhen uncaring I ..
A Parody of the Modern Pretense.

A Parody of the Modern Pretense.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


There is insincerity in my electric praise, regardless of response I drip cool pools of soft cloth on floor and utter abstruse succulent phrases.Even ..
Half Smiles of the Composed.

Half Smiles of the Composed.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


Who am I to- deny,to reject.To, discardthe boneless fruit thatis only inanimate clay.I went to hold your handon the return ridein the back of a NY tax..
Lebensraum.

Lebensraum.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


Electronic karma spills unnoticed, neon in the streets of concrete and oil only to be dissected by the scissoring legs. I see streams of soil eroding ..
On Atwood and Fishhooks.

On Atwood and Fishhooks.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


Imagine another world, one that curls slowly inward on an off balance increasingly coiled elliptical descent toward a dwarf star flaming red and in re..
A Self-Destructive Predilection.

A Self-Destructive Predilection.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


Your weltering words do not interest mewith its lack of true clarity.Just your tongueand all the inhuman noise it can makeOh' schlepped out- sleeping ..
Two-Dimensional Tag.

Two-Dimensional Tag.

A Poem by Ben Lingemann


I despise names and call them the false handle- that they are. A grip of pre-molded proportions, framed in impertinent memory. An acerbic peremptory c..

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