POETRY : VR Beaches / Kiana Shaley
We have been fans of Kiana Shaley’s poetry from afar since publishing “The Hotel Luau (or My Father Returns Home)” in Issue Seventy-Seven of The Racket Journal. Shaley’s work involves an expedited, and lyrical, sense of world building. She uses just a few lines to create a livable poetic universe that she populates with an internal emotional all her own.
It’s beautiful stuff.
And we are so excited to publish her new poem–”VR Beaches”–right here, and, well, right now. It’s a glimpse into a eco-disaster of a future but it’s funny. There are moments of joy amongst the plastic strewn beaches. It’s fantastic and Kiana very kindly recorded it for us as well.
Give it a read. Give it a listen. Give it a place to live in your brain for a bit.
VR Beaches
Kiana Shaley
One day, there will be simulations of beaches constructed out of plastic.
That will be the day every human being has a Quest VI
headset, given to them by the local world government.
The headline will read: ENGINEER INSPIRED BY DETRITUS FINDS
INNOVATIVE WAY TO DEAL WITH PLASTIC APOCALYPSE.
“By shooting humans into another universe, researchers found
it was possible to ignore the problem altogether.”
We will enjoy wiggling our toes into styrofoam
granules and marvel at the sunset’s petroleum dazzle.
We will wade into polyethylene abundance programmed
to undulate. It’s hex color code will be #4f42b5.
We will laugh at seagulls made of straws and utensils
and start conversations on their likeness to alarm mechanisms.
“Their squawks sound just like sirens!”
“How do programmers do this?!”
This simulation of a beach constructed out of plastic
will become our “favorite place in the entire world!”
When we say we are at the beach, our friends
will know we are on our state-issued couch.
We will lose colloquial expressions for
“leave my apartment” and “let’s hang out.”
Every day at the beach will end in our filth: yesterday’s
pajamas crusted with last week’s milk.
This experiment will prove crucial to cyber-ontogeny.
One day, it will be quaint to find sand in our panties.
