Choose this place,
its dogged vacancies
when someone walks in, here begins:
the distance pressed, the minute before grew an inch,
now closer in--arms and legs shoot out so
body is an x, a beckoning.
that for sincerity? That welcome sotto voce which
while (at the same
time desperately) avoiding
a woman's eyes. Don't
obvious, its reckless breech
the surrounded illuminates
still and yet and
whole room hurtles towards
daybreak. Reply hazy: choose "choose again."
Love, forgive these
dumb, these luckless fingers.
Wish them something else-a horse's mane, stiffened with mud.
The old knot, then: being blooms names like purple asters
And if one thing's to hold, then another doesn't.
Suppose a lion with two heads walked
room, what would you
it in two! Add the rest up
in the calculus of the fleshly. Such daisies, such exigencies of--see?
no way to say any of this. Will you try,
make any of it real the
room must be
small, must be backed by an ocean filled window--what
all along -- the terrace green and iron wrought. In a
words (all tufts and red breasts) nest and wait a turn and
never know where it
they die to.
Begin the arrangement,
the ordering tendencies,
end the gerunds--pretty
separates--the whorl and yaw
and blood and this yell. O,
finitude's last--read what?--past even that now.
dropped wayward side,
harbored slope--or slip--no, sloop--yes
again--whitecaps, choppy water. Remember his brown skin?
The deck hand. "Open sez me."
Petals: violet: bruise.
Gather ye leafy asphodels while ye may.
The green. The greed. The thumb's perplex.
owning + identity < indigo.
you phrase such
a question? "Hmmm, pretty. Please?"
= pink + hope. Like this.
Five Views from
the Ticket Taker's Window
line teases out its own symmetries: the little window, the place where
defines is choice and coins plunk and lurch from sweaty palm to sweaty
man at the end shifts from foot to foot , then hovers in midair. Breathlessly
herself behind the bars, framed by its fallible and relentless grid.
lights from the computer monitor shine about her face. She doesn't understand
because all similes are suspicious:
You could, you
know, count the words.
...the change you could count the...
And in the gloaming
O, the click and hitch of sliding towards spring. Shit. And my god
memory unsays this place. Assassination unblinkingly brings the curtain
Ford's Theater of the mind.
so he painted the inside of the sky. He painted gray and cave shaped,
the obvious is what calls out, the chiaroscuro of the self evident. In
the edges an ash tree bloomed trapezoids, and for a moment the leaves
speak out but to point towards the East.
The place of:
Once more the glass fractures
The bureau agents hide along the banks of the
If you can read this you're too
None of the above
I will read
to you, read to you from this book of forthcoming/this text in variations/index/
ask of what you meant to answer but then was gone as if you think only
Before there was any of this there was you (See figure X.ii).
J.'s Nipple Ring
How do bodies
a secretive tear--
enact a refusal
hoop held fast and hurtling
I look without owning,
I'd offer the price of this
its erect elaboration
what comes between
Fleshy tuck and cleft,
The stammering of the cheek,
What thing here suggests,
across the sternum--such inscription
with a pain that claims its sources.
And if grace, as
it can, comes inaudibly,
the the nipple's dark mouth
[back to Volume 1]