poetry & poetics ︎︎︎︎

ASSEMBLING THE MORROW: A POETICS OF SLEEP

Talonbooks (2014)


[Excerpt from “Non-REM 3 and 4 Sleep, 6:19:10–6:19:43 a.m.”]


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GOSSIPING WITH THE GODS

Selected transcriptions of automatic writing

(2017)
gossip’s roots
the
news
came
too
soon
I liked
the way
it felt I
had no control
recipe 1
go to house
find a person’s last dream
take your spit
take their blood
mix
sleep
wake
tell someone
recipe 3
for your neighbor
bend 4 metal prongs
on Tuesday
shave all beards
walk sideways
whistle
feel the
darkness
whither are you
you put your
mouth near
my mouth and
speak
7 years
6 wandering thoughts
5 pieces of saliva
≠ solitude
                        “she”
                        “told”
                        “me”
                        “that”
                        “story”        Daphne
                        “about”
                        “who”
Danger          “bleeds”
                        “first”
y/n
then i saw
the sun rise
who are
you
Did you hear the news?
Daphne — I saw her
Debbie — I waited
Daughter — she says
Disney — she doesn’t exist
Delta — she calls

THE TIME IS

The Town Crier (2018)
[Excerpt]

1
Now, the deities are thirsty
They smell the heat of the memories, the pulse of our blood lies

Earlier I was in a metro station
There was a girl wearing a red woolen skirt
She had no upper body
I thought, I’m catching a glimpse of the unreal
But she bent up, became whole
She’d just scooped a coin from the ground
I could see its mawkish glimmer from the rim of my vision
Her body unfolded, the body’s alchemy
I thought, we are bathed in the costly enjambment of glamour
By a vision diluted to the shimmy of currence

So take up a pencil
Sketch an orchid in puce        
For the light of the city folds upon itself
in thick
grey
pleats

Rain falters from the crown of the sky     
You know how it is: tireless, amniotic
The branches of the trees have gone mad with waiting and point accusingly to the codes of their offspring
Lightning highlights the stems of ruby shoots
Sapphire petals

Leaves in its tender wake a trail
Of singed and ruffled branches
Bygone feathers
Songbird casualties

We are copious presence
We are unknowing emergency

Later I will return to the house of my ancestors and though it has long since crumbled to ashes I will open the pages of their daybooks I will see they’ve gone absent without notice lifetimes of pillage vaulted to smithereens. What is the draw of sanity? The scenery and I

I and
the scenery
The scenery and I
I and
the scenery
The scenery and I
I and
The scenery alone
I am
Within earshot of energy

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