EACH WAVE’S A CURVE TO WHAT DOESN’T BODY IT                [PROFICES]

•

Silly, first you’re clay then your face, Sissy, for it[’]s net animates         [it’s noose]
the neck, the cloth the marble it came upon. No, the door opens
to the edge /of the cliff and a figure climbs a tree felled by the sea.
The tree is a hole
in the world like a twisted fan, everything we see between. The seed
is in its stump, the s between reason and treason. They crawl
on the table through and up the brush and their fingers hold everything
like a trigger, [w]rung to ringing sound. And there is a little one who
carries a blanket to forbear the dawn, and waves.

•

PROFICES                                                                                                [each committee]

•

everything is wrecked just fine but how do you know the raven to be no mirror to
the leaf

leafy shadow through which you know whatever you know

that nothing happens to

i know it was special for you, world, but I always have to go for I am the lung of the bio
sphere

and nondiscursive truth

yay, so toil, smart women be mean, my brain, refuse all work that makes more for others

my brain, obstinate failure of thought to escape itself, i am, bearable self, begun by the light

of the sky we are driven against, the sky, under which

each committee covers his feet in my house

each committee comes to cover his feet in my house

•

PROFICES                                                                            [All they will carry is weight]

•

Nothing is all [—and the matter—] that gets away                                      [away ok]
is all that what / the dead can’t drive
and whatlike        the dead
with which

I’m lousy / like what
is known / or as the known
and what the known is / told
to say gets a- / way to stay                                       ...