My fawn is tickled

Every night in a

Gloomy bed, held

Close to a green

Surface, a bimbo

Poohbear caresses



A shmoogalobins

Baby that I don’t lose

Like I lose the other

Things out of fort/da

Compulsion but that

I lose for real like


Peddling in the waters

My little foot, your lily foot

Your jelly toes,

Jelly pussy,




We are in Holland,

You are my Heidi and

I am your grandpa, and you

Rub my bark, and make

Clogs from my tree roots

And look over on the left: it’s Father


Father is just a mild tyrant

Paving the faith for the 

Adoring schoolboys

Gathering around him

In rows with four hands up

Reaching for bread and butter

While that small fawn, my

Sad Pooh, accompanies me, 

Unknowable, in this untrodden

Bright land, contemplating

Nothing, grasped at my roots

By quicksands of love, and

Spits into my hand


I also have longed for

An end to the dashed dreams

But I carry on for prosperity

While all my virtue

Decays in the limelight

So you can laugh at me

Cause I chanced it all

On a moment to flex myself

For nobody and I lost you


The toothless heavens don’t

Look kindly on me anymore

Not now that I’m chasing after


My innumerable references

Tracing over

Nothing on top

Of desolation on top

Of the sadness that is adorning

My so-called life


Unable to accurately measure

The tyrant, I am blighted

Repeatedly pursuing the same

Fiend, mocked and alone, in

The same warpath, where I

Am gone and then appeared

Unconsciously, through

An apparatus that is too big

To ever satisfy my longings,

That is to stop my longings

In their tracks, to have myself

Folded into me, I must

Climb the rocky hills

And sleep in the blue grass,

And pursue the same

Inevitably inflated tyrant


But the villainous stare

Meets you again, the man

The men, all of them

In stunning uniforms,

Like to return, and

Make me teary eyed

And feel worn out

Like I’ve been watching

The parades go by for far too long


We left the dense tomb

Of critical novelty and dull

Circulations of empty

Circulations of empty

Partnerships forged on

Empty promises 


We have fled towards love

Feeding off each other’s

Lips, immature kisses on top

Of jelly kisses, not circulating

In references anymore, we

Satiate ourselves in the

Realms of virgin grass, an

Apparatus unmarked as

Apparatus, hurling

Our rage at the skies, till

We can approach the

Dreadless future

Free from curatorial practices

We make love!


If that is the footstep

Of kisses, my poohbear

Is near, let him 

Conquer the veil that

Seals me from  

Bliss, let him

Tare through the

Screen and crush

The mirror so that touch

Happens for a first time

And we live tribally 

Producing nothing

No goods

No community

No solitude

We don’t even produce 

Each other


Blazing in

Wild delight

He beams and

Glows, my


Pooh flower, my

Poohbanya, my

Wet sylph


Steal me from a vulgar

Path of unenjoyable



Replant me in the

Virgin soils and

Make me forget

The word virgin

Make me forget

The word experience


Save me from my 

Self-reflexive power tripping


Pooh speaks,

“Do not grab

For bread, for butter,

For dad, do not flex,

Do not know,

Just rest in my

Pooh belly


Pooh bear” 


Out of a kingdom of

Self-satirizations, of

Cloudy days made into

Tokens of invincible

Beauty, I have found

A home, it will fade soon

But for now I have my

Poohbear’s love


No more sad vegetation,

No more unfulfilled daimons

From sublunary spheres


All is tangibly wild, and manhood

Has been extinguished, the cult of the

Father and the cult of the son are gone


Delicate and mild

Love upon the self, newly

Unfolds, heaping quenchless

Symphonious Poohbear

No picture, only

No way picturable to man, no man

Hark! The narrow flowers rise, but 

In no phallic organ column, no order

Out of earth, which peaks and arises

No ghost or grave, but it’s streamed

The anxious bigot’s death is given

The senselessness is diffused and

Out of the shackles of the frantic monarchs

Earth’s feathery wings flap away




FELIX BERNSTEIN has produced short videos for YouTube since his satirical Coming Out Video (2008). His first film, Unchained Melody, was acclaimed by Wayne Kostenbaum for its "shock, beauty, complexity, laughter, luridness, lightness of touch and phantasmagoric intertextuality." His criticism has been published, or is forthcoming, in The Brooklyn RailHTMLGiantThe Volta, and The Boston Review. His 'Notes on Post-Conceptual Poetry' drew raves and retweets from the critiqued poets and critics. With Gabe Rubin, he sang Jellicle Cats for nearly four hours on GaussPDF, re-staged Red Krayola’s opera Victorine at the 2012 Whitney Biennial, and directed the movie Boyland; together they front the band Tender Cousins.