Full Foreground, from which I'll be reading
for the remainder of the reading,
is also about history and this idea of being belated or being
untimely in the sense as Hamlet taught us
that the time is out of joint.
And many of them point back to the years, the 90s, in which
I was living in Mexico City.
And, aims of the poems are to reflect the diverse sphere
of public cultures, reflecting the language of current events,
journalism, state demagoguery, the ethnographic account,
and the pathologies of violence.
And all these voices constitute a self, presumably myself.
But it also provides a world view, at a ground level
view of the world events from the 1990s to the more
recent present.
And it also shifts from celebrations of the flesh
to, astonishments of extreme human violence.
None of them have titles.
"A reverence in the order of time arises now, some under
surface into silk geometries of here
therefore, observing the swerve of lawful aim,
as pliant capacity curls into what could be
weeks of this unlikely touch.
Deserving tongues, scented bleed, the here
and after onto shores, kept safe between the pages of an arc,
outlive us, escape, and case in point.
Render, unshaven, the stay, cupped hands, unsure,
along the lilt of jaw, rejoin your collarbone,
allure made known and roseate, and hollow in the shape
of loathsome night.
Recede to search again, my throat
moan in the fraught mind and bodily intentions of,
is this a kiss?
A head swell grin of abandoned contiguity, of mouths
glide drunk, with persuaded hearts surrendering apparel.
Am I watching these soft drawing tenses of fragrant
beige or so inside your amulet anatomy?
If there is no jeopardy to these offices of the flesh,
you will press against this all involving spot,
then it's a rapture uncertain, this company
rare and wear on the horizon.
Was it over the summer?
So numb there with, now a winter hum
of knowing a science, something no one need notice,
if this is gift given, or spellbound,
or a thievery, else, this is dumbstruck.
A falling asleep there outside of this rattle,
shall we gather my Vanguard of God,
as we pleasure on the other edge in this election
year my luminary, in whose rogue nation,
to imagine a Commonwealth, is to make impossible any casualty
in this occurrence."