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 [ok]
riven, ruled, driven [drooled]
•
To stay what is a way [drooled] against
nothing, or a way to say
nothing over and over, different ways
•
Nothing whose indifference matters to me
is built before the scheme and its transposition
in neon, [the schmeme], a no between
now and never—Shhhht.
—Man I don’t need
a micrograph to tell me
it looks like what it feels like,
page, break, Drugs.
•
Though often I have felt a little weird
about the light and party to which it
would come, it is everything [, will come,]
and sponsors its own ungetting
like autumn, autumn and its every miscreant,
(my friends),
[Now that if we think of something they can de
-finitely make it we can think of nothing at all,
but we can’t think of it without thinking of what isn’t in it, and they can’t unmake nothing et al]
My friends,
•
Help, fizzle my unbelief
until it bows, send a rainbow
around the lens, a tank in its halo [to govern]
To govern-bent the coven
-ant but still, there
is something whose halo
is a collar for the world
Too remote to view
and the trouble
I’m having [,] processing, too
No visions, just what follows [—what way and does wait—]
Them, My Friends, and even today
All they will carry is weight
•
