August 28, 2011 – 12:00 pm
interlude my mother is fond of the claim: gardens, time, gardens time. Yes, she would say, tomorrow, will another garden be. In Richard Three: “. . . our firm estate, When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up” which was, she said, the last thing she heard […]
August 23, 2011 – 7:04 pm
interlude it’s often the case one doesn’t know who one’s with. for example, once I slapped a roach off Henry’s shoulder but it was a skin roach, a roach construed of melanin and the tree shadows convening on the lake shore, some outing time, some autumn, maybe. it’s likely, I said, that a roach’d fall […]
August 22, 2011 – 8:25 pm
interlude I said wait wait wait and felt a long rectangle extend out into gray space where I had yet to reach but hoped to reach and imagined a nightwing moth coming to the bush flowers and the other flowers I used to watch where the moth would visit and the leaves and the flowers […]
August 19, 2011 – 9:07 am
interlude I saw two small wasps having sexual intercourse on my balcony wall, but not much happened in the periods following. I grew ill, I had difficulty perceiving clearly whether it was on the wall or not on the wall, the shape of my hands, Lucy sounds, as she passed here and there, with her […]
August 17, 2011 – 4:46 pm
Oddly enough I could not remember anything else than the most elementary facts of my life. interlude I saw two small wasps having sexual intercourse on my balcony wall, one on the top the other beneath the one on top wriggling over the one on the bottom, who also wriggled in a strange small, energetic […]
August 12, 2011 – 9:20 pm
interlude my father once told me a story about a choreographer, a man who made his life by inventing masks, who never, he said, wore his own face but other faces contriving smiles and frowns for whatever occasion when he looked he saw claws, gorilla, bird hands, saying: my hands are not my hands, other […]
August 7, 2011 – 10:52 am
interlude and why not escape? Were or are there rumors of it, during transport maybe, where the gate crashes down and elephants, hippos, rhinos gallivant and crush the tables, chairs, and bright canopies of the streetside cafes? where I raise my hand against a massive Hammer and say, It was Henry, for whom I have […]
August 3, 2011 – 10:26 pm
interlude he asked with a cold beer glass in in his red hand: What if you’re wrong? I said the trouble of it reminded me of feathers (or something to that effect), my girl gone, this hotel waybar a mere convenience. But, he said, again, What if you’re wrong. And I said again it reminded […]
August 2, 2011 – 10:28 am
He tells her he’s doing all right. interlude Lorenzo, though I’m guessing, had his trials before turning great, I will never be great, my brother will never be great, buried and forgotten, and for being stabbed the Pazzi conspirators were drowned, hanged, their accounts wiped from the earth, though I’m guessing, and, so, wounded Lorenzo […]
interlude my mother is fond of the claim of gardens, gardens and time. that her garden is an image of the seasons to come, the naked rose prefiguring colors to come, new life to come some image of the forwardness of movements, some shape of the future, like an appearance of forms in the closer […]
interlude but the dream is unmanageable. The dream is not language or poetry; it’s not a dog or a brother or a sentiment sentimentalizable in script, Spanish, Arabic, Coptic, English, Chinese or hand-made grammars for the deaf or red warnings tacked up for the mischievous to read. I once took a no dream pill, one […]
interlude yes hale health holy sprang from spora communalus, but are they related in the wide etymologies of war, worship, and loss, breeding in those strange orchards of words, bursting in those empty memory marks and sordid other orthographical and inherited imaginings, breeding creatures that will walk the earth round and after years of labor […]
interlude my father knew that healthy and hale have ancient roots in the notion of wholeness, but he would ask: what does it mean? this wholeness of the holy, this root that goes so deep. I feel, he would say, that I’m missing something, missing something in the obviousness of things, that in the stone […]
interlude all readers and listeners have heard the moralist moral away on one of one hundred favorite lessons and conditions, which may be true, untrue, fabricated, or conjectured, and all readers and listeners will set their timers and wait for news to come of the moralist’s fall, shriveling before the videotape of failed sobriety, while […]
interlude and I opened my fist to open air there, on that friend’s farmhouse beyond which whole armies of the faithful are moving, none more true than any other, dependent on the common hidden, which is indeed significant: the object of faith is _____ which is hidden, unrevealed, inferred but unrevealed, inferred but hidden. was […]
