basin of hills... (audio only)
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in the decision of a beginning [3]
No sensation of falling, which suggests that this condition may be flight.
My eyes might be open or not. My coffee poured into a cup or
onto the countertop. This, a ball of saved rubberbands or the thick clot of tremors
I usually keep deep in the drawer that I can trust will stick
when I absent-mindedly forget, and try to open it.
What would it mean for a body to yield?
A use.
That is to say, dew moistens the grass and is gone.
The body moves from out of its past with each glimpse of its own
2011
in the flood
“yes of course” was one speech too many
now you’ve done it exposed your
obsequious emphases
hardly speech if disclosing nothing
thought to stay blameless in a
well-tended hothouse that’s now
out of use beyond wear not in your possession
to break out so lay blame on
ritual pronouncements like
2017
To measure internal activity while it turns all I know to rubble
I repeat “dead” aloud enough times for its meaning to loosen
from sense. Once the word I repeat is no longer comprehensible,
it begins to attack everything else I know.
Giorgio Agamben says devastation is one face of a Genius
that exists inside us. The other face is creation.
The two sounds that begin and end “dead” echo in my ears.
2024