Now I'm going to read a little bit from this book, which
I vaguely think of as a novel, in the form of poetry,
in the form of a play.
And it's kind of the aftermath of catastrophe.
And I'm starting somewhere in the middle,
and I'll end up somewhere near the end.
Plot, a letter, lengthened weight, exchange,
handed over all personals, letter and person.
A secret card, sheets, illness, sleep,
approaching the tenuous land with a breath of fresh.
Sleep its length through.
A woman turns kind.
Orders act with temporary gentle with gentle
tenuous directed toward the familiar foreign.
Tenuous, yet owned, unapologetically.
Tenuous, yet distant from actual source.
Tenuous, lovely to grant glance from a distance.
Tenuous, lovely, beaming away, or rolling past.
Tenuous, on its own terms.
Tenuous on its own turfed country.
Tenuous, because an acceptingly and free
to be on its own tenuous lovely ground.
Tenuous grounding itself instantly, solidly,
as a matter of factual discourse or resolution.
Tenuous and over, or over it, or over itself as an acceptance,
as an acknowledgment.
Tenuous, and even perhaps, fake, or unreasonable,
yet coming into its tenuously owned term.
Tenuous, its turn and turning.
Tenuous, because every character affected.
Tenuous, entertaining towards, tenuous,
as light would have its way with,
tenuous, you might dare say a place.
Tenuous, or a name, tenuous, or an act of nebulous,
yet sincere.
Light, which may need to take place
in the form of connection, which may need to take place
in the form of touch, which may need to take place
in the form of skin, which may need to take place
in the form of someone shipped in from elsewhere,
which may need to take place on the horizontal,
which may need to take everyone back
to the beginning of the story, which
may need to take more time, or more story, or more
places than this.
Which may need to take place in the form
of several or multiple people getting together and conspiring
as to light, or no light, and what kind of light,
and how much intensity is ours for the controlling?
And how much light is ours for the keeping
or having or holding, touching, all the whiling,
doling out, and tending the keep.
Last heap of light tripping availability from this and that
and this and that, end of the continuum
of this particular human conviction.
And yes, the problem with it all,
let us perhaps toss out that convicted light
and see what happens.
Many, many years ago, a Spanish painter
wrote some poems that manage to keep, get
kept, dug up, dredged up in a bar on a little street
teeming with flies.
And so this is really happening.
Architecture of a party.
Flamenco trilling loud rages, this wall, that wall,
with this such proximity, bustle of poetry, linger of poetry,
or its turn generation.
A civilized crowd enter balcony cathedrals everywhere.
Everywhere, angles in the architect's eye, pointing
upwards, asking what the fact would do.
Tripped to the first stool.
Trip on it again.
An interruption of water--
directions, buy no more fish.
Buy fish with its water.
Watch them die.
Be culturally sensitive.
Toilets are for shit.
Bury them in the plants.
Collect tadpoles in a ruinous garden.
Watch them get eaten.
Be naturally sensitive.
Death of a fellow character, all characters
are avoided by her nearness, her dearness.
Directions stay.
Make displacement permanent.
Stay.
Make light permanent, and lovingly,
at any reliable angle.
Stay or put, stay or wait, stay or ride.
It having had-- having had this--
having been given-- having been complected--
having been lovely--
having been loving-- having been loved-- having been I want.
And, all of the below.
Below, memory wins out.
And everything, such as, time, directions, characters,
moving characters, interchangeable characters,
intervening characters, intersecting characters,
interloping characters, interested characters,
invested characters, inviting characters,
all go out for a drink, for a fuck, all go out of this story.
Ending, poetry, game, play, all go out of this.
All going everywhere.
All going somewhere, asking the bartender for another place
to go.
Asking the bar for another line of music.
All asking to be kindred, asking to be a kinder voice, a better
extrication, exit strategy.
All voices on the phone, remainders of voice.
Some remains of surgery, remains of sex, remains of believing,
of idiocy, of trusting all of what was never spoken--
of what was always meant--
still meant, still carrying meaning.
All intentions everlasting.
All intentional goings away, all travel
for the sake of others, remainders
of movement, displacement, transport, geography of risk.
Some internal topography, measurement
of time for an enormous time or an unusual time breaking
anywhere.