My Husband Adds Lorine Niedecker to His Vinyl Collection
with lines from Lorine Niedecker
The record player spins
Lorine Niedecker’s voice
into the living room
“My life by water, Hear–”
I see a note of moonlight
on the wood floor. There
her voice sinks through
the floor, churns through
the soil beneath the house,
“part coral and mud clam,”
turning & returning fresh
words the worms transport.
“A robin stood by my porch,”
she said. See me here now,
ear to the floor, listening,
for what will surface, infused
with my soil. I hear a buzz.
*Lines from “My Life by Water,” [For reach], and “Easter”
The record player spins
Lorine Niedecker’s voice
into the living room
“My life by water, Hear–”
I see a note of moonlight
on the wood floor. There
her voice sinks through
the floor, churns through
the soil beneath the house,
“part coral and mud clam,”
turning & returning fresh
words the worms transport.
“A robin stood by my porch,”
she said. See me here now,
ear to the floor, listening,
for what will surface, infused
with my soil. I hear a buzz.
*Lines from “My Life by Water,” [For reach], and “Easter”
Glose on Hair and Hyperfocus
Let's insist it's not
disordered to care
about what we care
about, the lyric
-“Think: Pieces,” Gracie Leavitt
A follicle-close focus,
the gentlest lashes
open/close, too close,
let’s insist it’s not
minutiae probleming us
with thick pit fluff,
softly longing, and too
disordered to care,
we lean in, tender
nostrils pulsing
simple plosives,
about what we care-
fully comb, all of this
vellus on my fingers,
each individually rapt
about the lyric.
disordered to care
about what we care
about, the lyric
-“Think: Pieces,” Gracie Leavitt
A follicle-close focus,
the gentlest lashes
open/close, too close,
let’s insist it’s not
minutiae probleming us
with thick pit fluff,
softly longing, and too
disordered to care,
we lean in, tender
nostrils pulsing
simple plosives,
about what we care-
fully comb, all of this
vellus on my fingers,
each individually rapt
about the lyric.
Housetime
I pull sheets of spacetime across my bed:
Neon Filas align, water glasses shiver
& twinkle in cupboards, super-
fluous afghans draw in
to the darkening
basement, spare chairs
fold in
on them-
selves.
The gravity of expired
curry powder,
spilled clumps
of brown sugar,
common spice dust
is reduced,
and I can focus
on the threads
separating
related
objects,
each
into its
own
private
time
this: space
integral
to its
being
Neon Filas align, water glasses shiver
& twinkle in cupboards, super-
fluous afghans draw in
to the darkening
basement, spare chairs
fold in
on them-
selves.
The gravity of expired
curry powder,
spilled clumps
of brown sugar,
common spice dust
is reduced,
and I can focus
on the threads
separating
related
objects,
each
into its
own
private
time
this: space
integral
to its
being
Light / Switch
the light switch / your fingertip, touching / and a light turns on / inside my heart, after so many unfelt grips / my hand around the fork, the spoon / in your mouth, reader, it’s personal / the chair cushions reshaping, the blanket a weight / over our shoulders, on our lap, up to our chin / a breath of space between us / this is the closest we come / to refamiliarizing ourselves / with the world / and what we’ve made of it