John Tottenham

Mar 17, 2025 | artillerymag.com | Emma Christ |John Tottenham |Jimmy Komma

The Sublime and The Beautiful RevisitedAscending even lowerinto the empyrean of autonomy,believing one’s own lies, the beautythat should only be seenthrough somebody else’s eyes. A pointless exercise,no purpose does it serve:tracking one’s moves, gettingon one’s own nerves. But how can life otherwise be livedwithout these airless flights:descending ever higherinto the abyssof self-conscious solitude.

Jan 17, 2025 | artillerymag.com | Emma Christ |John Tottenham

Adrift between lustand sleep, the highway unwindsbehind closed eyes, in scratchy sheetsand stinging heat. A one-way streeton repeat. Cracking the veneer, stripping it away,in the obvious light of day. Coming from nowhere, going nowhere,but never far enough. The same signage mile after mile. Interminable layers of fast-food landscapesurround dried-up downtownswhere nary a soul strollsand bluecoats rigorously patrol.

Nov 14, 2024 | artillerymag.com | Emma Christ |James W. Cushing |John Tottenham

FameThere are some peoplewho can barely be toleratedin person but are belovedas fictional characters. One reads about themin a book or watches themon a screen, and one feels specialbecause one recognizes their beauty. But when one meets themin person, one dismisses them,unless they are already famous. —John TottenhamIn Our ShadowInnocent as infants,we curl up in our beliefs. We dream that our milk watches usfrom the sofa in the dark. Under the sofa rests a ballwe thought would never stop rolling.

Sep 10, 2024 | artillerymag.com | Emma Christ |Hans Wagner |John Tottenham

Licking TimeThere’s a fortune to be madethinking about licking the bare upper thighof historical figures. The way the first person gave up all hopeechoes in everyone everywhere forever. Wearing animal print, and writing poemsone can get close to the worldlicking itself. —Hans WagnerA Lesser WorkI have finally come to the decision:not to come to a decision, to simply waitfor the opportunity to pass, and thenbitterly regret not having cometo a different decision earlier. I have done everything wrong.

Jul 9, 2024 | artillerymag.com | Emma Christ |John Tottenham |Samuel Acres

ReceiptBus stops are one full breath apartIs why men drink in them. Their poor slow hearts,Their poor slow blood. Leant on elbows on knees theyHawk up galaxies. The car becomes a well when youCry there. 24h carpark. —Without myMarrow and the wind blows I’m a flute,And when there’s no wind I run to make it. I wish you couldn’t see where I sleep. I run beside the bus, in the cover of it,In the heat of its exhaust.