Boredom of the Womb1. Our motion’s made by moving frames / A handful of sequential stops among / drifting spirals— An anchor dropped/in shifting mud and lost/ Detaching at the slightest wave. 2. I’ve grown impatient for the inner kicking— the musical shock of the fading mask— I am loafed in the depression of immortals. The doors are timed to open, and sensation covers us to sleep— acute pleasures as we live from birth to birth— blindfolds for the hidden eye. A voice calls from implacable directions, “Our motion’s made by moving frames,” a liturgy in jazz— and every shadow is a map for prophets, the vision cast by fleeting image— a blurry face behind the face. 3. PAPER WEAPONS DETONATE LONG-DISTANCE HAIRCUTS ON BANISHED GENERAL (The house-on-fire looming in the secret zodiac) SUBJECTS DISAPPEAR FROM PAINTINGS (The dogs are left in cages for days, their blood pumped in whispers while A BRIDGE IS A WALL (( ( the grunts play serious checkers—)) a hair in every cup.)) (Speak loudly and your soul grows flesh) the headlines are capitalized, and the currency of counterfeit reveals the onion’s pit— moving in the lines of a palm as a bird gives the wrong call, screaming Detach! Detach! my god,” pinned in the current. 4. >>>I’m>>>>>>> >>>>>>>awake>>>>> >>>>>and>>>>>>>> >>>>>drifting>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>pushed>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>from note>>>>>>> >>>>>to>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>note>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>as>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>a clocktower >>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>grows>>>>>>> >>>>> >>>>>>> >> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> among the maples>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>A child>>>>>>>draws>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>> >>> >>>>>>>a solitary pupil unremembered in the passing>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>baskets of sex and cornbread, >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>> the ambiance of the stadium >>>secreted >>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>in his gestures.>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>The insistent aura of beer >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>on the sticky floor >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>rises in the classrooms >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>while, somewhere>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>> the prayers go on— >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>grace in greedy tongues>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>as soy sauce>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>soaks>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>the pages>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>of Ecclesiastes>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>A child looks through>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>the box of matches>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>for the one>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>> >>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>that bears his name>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>and I’m awake>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>drifting>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>> >>>> >>>> >>>>>as the river spills over>>>>>>>>>> >>>>> >>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >> >> >> >>>>>>>>>in melody>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>to snuff >>> >>>>>the flame>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>> >>>>>> >>>>>>> >> >> >> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 5. “Our motion’s made / by moving frames,” /the eyes have darkened into holes. The lightness of a hollowed bone/ is written into its movements— it’s a body, where any / body will do. I recognize the hands, the flashing / in and out of sunlight / pulsing in the chest; the sun, which turns / unnoticed like a distant engine, /as prayers go on / amid the drifting. The lips are mine / the words escape like platelets / from injured skin, and hesitantly breathing, I let go this battered trunk/ his decayed manuscript left empty at the altar of broadcast/ and grow new flesh. The eyelid opens— I’ll wear these words tomorrow as WE LIVE FROM BIRTH TO BIRTH And the finish line / is anywhere / but here the finish line>>>> >>>>>>>>is anywhere>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>but here the finish line is anywhere but here. |
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