[the broken pleasure of marching]

kari edwards

un-shaken, moving un-restricted through the blank season, counting the dead, counting the days, counting heart beats, back to worms, back to dustvback to this un-necessary burden, sometimes in terror, sometimes a reversal crushed beneath another categorical persistence, another dream creature who does not speak.

this is what death is, everything that has ever been seen, everything that has ever been done, will have been done and still nowhere is anywhere for nothing moving towards un-becoming, greased for passage down a pipe, trickling down the throat, against the will preserved, well built lonely insistence on column willing, to be a real body in a real existence, around other bodies gathered up for dead.

More by kari edwards

from Bharat jiva [the day shifts...]

the day shifts, we talk to each other the way
we talk to each other, the luster fades, our
bodies fill with sap, there is a shift, joy
reappears before another personal narrative
burns to a heap of citations, continuing in
complicated machinery, becoming blood
knots in space, both the living and dead
surround the present has been. I open my
eyes in the full force of fear and hesitation,
frozen in passing passageways with endless
permutations, subjected to violence, stupidity,
and love.

from Bharat jiva [running sadness to the ground]

running sadness to the ground
divided
running sadness to the ground
strange though
I prefer to play with matches
rough ride midnight's helpless plea
under yesterday's lapse into
praying for an evolutionary jerk forward

oh body
washed in blood
and covered in phosophorous ash
spring me one last breath
filled with real remnants
quicksilver and lead
let me drink from your
sorry scheme of things

let me touch the spot
that bites back

from Bharat jiva [I can not begin to know]

I can not begin to know
producing difference by deferring
second third person construction
in the first third person narrative
promising surrender to the dead
acknowledging, I am an unknown participant
something maybe, something blind
consuming scarcity
producing hunger
constructing gender
breathing markers
making someone a thing
scapegoat instance
another perfect occasion
construct of a common sense sentence
out of many different bank accounts
apparently to produce
a final outcome
illumination legible
newspaper flyspeck
on the edge of an abstract noun