(june)
Coded eventualities, we throw handfuls of syntax and desire a
kind of persuasive clarity, obviously mythic. The street
becomes a conduit for breakages. Everyone I know appears
there. Winter holding a pleasure of light, an absent lover, the
absorbing difficulty of an ethics. At the corners of sight a
corrugated fence clicks in a breeze, particular to this
description. Meticulous print, excoriation, eruptions of wild
possibility making sharp turns toward desperation in care. At
times we are more present in writing. There is that in poetry,
the sound of a great improvisation. Coffee splits the distance
between us over and over. Three points of colour visible from
the small window beside the bath, announcing continuity.
Each day proliferate with things eluding trace. We all begin to
share a body memory of forgetting, noise in a cloudy margin,
persistent and entomological. I carefully arrange songs and
imagine a rapid flight out.
(november)
Skin emergent as silence, lightly crossing territories. A plane
flying east from the horizon becomes a vaporous comet.
Humming vista, inky sincerity, we begin to miss the future as
well. Something unutterable comes to rest between two
morning letters. Swinging against groundlessness, cautiously
declared. You wake from a calm dream of impossibly tall
forests. Desire separates, reforms along the diagonals of a
meshed steel frame. Hyperrealism arranged in parataxis.
Sharp coriander, its immaculate perimeters. It is accepted that
no story has a beginning, a middle or an end. Three floors of a
warehouse shaken with traffic. A history of pages flung into
air, patterning the shift. Our speech starts to reinterpret
mathematics as we sink into artificially warm water. Mah-jong
tiles fluttering against a lengthening scam. Sculptures are
visible in the distance, elegant and superfluous, as we bite our
tongues.