Morning,
then, was
deep & wide,
either
here, or
between, then I
stood
on quiet
sand between green
waves
in doppler
rings, like a
key
that fell
to sand, there
is
nothing to
eat, so seek
it
where you
will, you will,
at
night I
lift crows from
“giant
dark chords
stacked together in
an
abyss of
darkness” “‘from one
room
to the
next’—as if
in
a hall
of mirrors (‘with
lights
in the
mirrors’)” “sound ‘sparks’
that
dance ‘in
the wind’ of”
“a
field of
tall long trees
(of
glass)”, silences
are shown by
boxes
(/______/) and
are each equal
in
duration to
any word the
reader
chooses. 88:
3. A circle.
4. A line.
5. A tiger’s nail or claw.
6. A peacock’s foot.
7. The jump of a hare.
8. The leaf of a blue lotus.
1. Sounding.
2. Half moon.
A
welcome / a
call / a lull.
When
the little
windwheel outside the
cabin
window sings
in the gathering
thunderstorm,
let you
tell me a
story:
whatever the month or wound
parentheses
I beg of you
this vertigo with vowels glued to the intimate
(A has moved close enough to B to grasp B’s arm)
B. An opening circle,
a lot of unused rainwater.
Another
A writes
The work we
are
doing, even
if in slowest
motion
is important.
It is a
white-
hot and
delicate matter that
melts
down to
[Was I you in me?]
A text wrapped in leaves
Leaves
When the wind blows through the leaves
I wait while water boils
I knew I was awake but … couldn’t quite believe it
Hungry and wondering
I was wondering
*
*
*
The water has boiled
It’s green tea now
The thinner than a razor blade that slips between you and yourself is an imperceptible vertical hyphen
The want is ended
And then continues
Why do I keep typing then deleting
Is my heart
Your heart?
Who is morirroring my …
Who lends me this un-
Rooted passion?
A semblance of the sun
A wicked likeness of morning
Shines up among the ruins
Visible now
The sentence
Of interlocked bridges
It is all here
*
*
*
Cobweb between two branches
*
*
*
My teacup is empty
Not apocalypse but a wicked likeness of morning
Is my heart
Your heart?
The Death Ship passes the lighthouse on dark brown paper
may be reproduced by anyone
for whatever reason.
‘Copyrights’ like worn-out
gloves are obsolete.
who
goes on
to note that
“every
lover knows
I love you
is
a vocal
variable to be
interpreted
by the
vibrations” (I think
of
C here …),
funny every harmonic
e X p l O D ed.
ichi go
ichi e, lift
the
blind of
the bedroom window.
Place
a clear
glass bottle on
the
window sill.
The painting exists
when
the stars
have risen. Yes
Yoko
Ono. Go
to a lonely
place
& rub
a stone on
a
rock for
days & hours
&
hours &
days & days
& days
hours &
hours & days
&
hours &
& &. The
mirror
itself
was scarcely
wider than an
eye:
s
o
m
e n
t e
h p
i p
n
a
g else could h
because
we’re aliens,
and that’s how
we
roll.
[Note Sources: Peter Minter, “Jou”, “Glimpse”, “Quiet Hunt”, “Emperor Go, Godspeed”, “Cove Lament”, Elenge”, in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets (ed. Jeff Hilson); Anthony Braxton, Composition Notes, as quoted in Graham Lock, ““What I Call a Sound”: Anthony Braxton’s Synaesthetic Ideal and Notations for Improvisers”, at Critical Studies in Improvisation / Études critiques en improvisation, Vol 4, No 1 (2008); Jackson Mac Low, “METHODS FOR READING biblical poems of Jackson Mac Low”, in 0 to 9, 4 (eds. Vito Acconci and Bernadette Mayer); Bern Porter, “88”, in 0 to 9, 4 (quoted in its entirety); Alan Baker, “A Lull”, “One Who Travelled To Find What Listening Meant”, in Not Bondi Beach; Martin Heidegger, “The Thinker as Poet”, in Poetry, Language, Thought (tr. Albert Hofstader); Nicole Brossard, “Notebook of Roses and Civilization” (the 1st and 4th), “Apparition of Objects” (the 2nd and 3rd), in Notebook of Roses and Civilization; Sean Finney, “Equally Balanced Buckets”, in The Obedient Door; Anny Ballardini, email, 9 Feb 09, re: Thrownnest, which arrived at exactly this moment in composition; Alan Halsey, “‘Formerly the Nineteenth Century and After’”, in Not Everything Remotely; Tom Beckett, most recent entry to date at Thrownnest; most of “Autopoiesis XVI (Sonnet 6)”, inserted here because it fits, and because the last line’s also by Alan Halsey, and also from Not Everything Remotely; Roy Kiyooka, “StoneDGloves”, “of seasonable pleasures and small hindrances”, in Pacific Windows; Geraldine Monk & David Annwn, It Means Nothing to Me; Shin Yu Pai, “Full aster with firefly”, “PAINTING TO LET THE EVENING / LIGHT COME THROUGH” (from Yes Yoko Ono) in Works on Paper; Jerome Rothenberg, “Vision Event I (Eskimo)”, in Writing Through: Translations and Variations; Gustaf Sobin, Luminous Debris: Reflecting on Vestige in Provence and Languedoc; Hannah Weiner, “remembered sequel”, in silent teachers / remembered sequel; end of Alec Baldwin’s monologue, hulu.com commercial, unveiled at 2009 Super Bowl]
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