Eclogue Onto an Idea

Up ahead out here, and his affiliate, rival in the eyes,
     someone near, but not our crowd, someone whom
you approach in a poem only
to the extent of his vantage out, to the verb open out
onto. To that extent, you fit into his
looking suit, to the glove points, othering,
a long parenthesis of lens, a self sort of, a caul kind of
first feeling, to the doubled pocket
mouth. Kissed him from inside:
                               what’s yes in any es gibt, contributing thus
the plus of a little sentience. Have you too felt extra fleetingly?
The early given is he faces the same way we, as though
we sent him to this promontory. To him assign
yourself, and borrow charge. What part of us
you are yet, and what through him and his would I,
if I were you, retrieve in the purview—or whom,
if you want someone with a look, sending looks,
     someone underway and expressing it, someone
drawing from ceremony sensation, separating her own
from others’—gets lost in happening. This is their scene.
Situation’s giving onto someone.
Put out some hedge and overhear.
The foreground and the horizon are idea’s.
Consider the milieu durance.
Way out there now.

More by Brian Blanchfield

One First Try and then Another

Careful, a night set on edge 
the European tradition of virtuoso 
and the raw desire to articulate.
I pushed them both backward on the bed in the end
and each played on, one first 
try and then another.
Soft then on succession thought.

The instrument all torso is loved where are held 
fitting the flown down housemartin with a reed
or belying midway uncertainty
in tandem the hands, and acts adolescent.
A natural vaults a natural 
development, his farther back barn jacket 
American and strewn as if spare.

Thought soft the crescendo all along
saws, neither stroke inward or from the heart
except it begins unbecoming
building in roomy youth.
We have our no, libido, go.
Then all limbs arms and loudly I don't want to
play down the skillless touch. 

Edge of Water, Portage Bay, Washington


Standalone heron borrowing a pylon in Portage Bay

            accounts payable

according in quarter turns her head by the dial

of her beak to motion under current

                                        until certain. One of seven.


But the night began later.

Even after the soaring bridge hid

the assignation, the dark water passing darker

though. A grade higher, inland, on the return path

the tedium of midges lifted that hung about

kissing level.

Like we left the guild victorious.

Funny Loss of Face

Late in the last of the sun all over the wall

across the lot the bordello larks on the ivy vine

visit one another’s resting closets

like boys and men in Taiwanese baths:

anyone could be behind that leaf or must he

prefer sleep to sharing sleep, the overcome one,

flustering, not just anyone, retorts

and have him know, special again only once

the turnkey checks, before the wind top to bottom

as in a movie of itself plays the shuddering

singularity of love, selecting no one

particularly anyway, but all in las peliculas

sit deeper in their popcorn parkas down.

Everyone’s in for the night except

you who had flown all day didn’t want to fall asleep

here I was telling your neck relax your eyes

were going to wake up raw without solution

for lenses, so it was better you find

the little baths they had at home. Why it was

funny I suggested we concoct it from scratch’s hard

to say and whether one of us or which was

good about everything. When you call and

the leaves are brighter red, it’s later, nearer

the sun, and relief is that vibrant.

That you can see already where more doors

were and birds the ropey circuitry

the wall will bare is an occupancy of mine.