Solid Quarter
Monday, January 18, 2021
CRUMBS
Friday, January 15, 2021
Carnal Evaluation
Carnal/Eval/Uation
I am about to make the other speak.
-Barthes
Nor did the war ever end, i could not stop the flow
Bled out, i colored the right bright love of the red winged blackbird
Best believe in the magic of— pier roped our separate water crafts
In calm waters and spent, smeared lipstick stains cloud shape
On the interior of the mouth coverings, falling in space
Like love, garners a series of questions
Participation in the others’ hallucination of you
Line the poem with broken facts
Each heart a haunted place, be not what leaps if leaps
Confused, fashioned as monsters of old
Every tree trimmed with faces, a sadness
Always remember the brokenness i tucked under
This necessary keep: What is your allegiance to
To be an American poet, the response of the nation
If you know what you are is better than what you want
Space is negotiated by resources, the way the lines of the poem
Take the place of where we would have been real to one another
I think sometimes if you would just call my name out loud
Like that story, the whole world could begin again
Thursday, January 14, 2021
Yet the Frame Held
When the pitch falls, who sings for you
To have a new feeling in the hopelessness of now
& no outside of nature, memory is how we keep time
Flowing, the constant and i would wait for you
Power is the dream of consciousness mattering
You take your bones out and form them into a cave
A wander in the shadow of play till we make slaughter
A normal every day entertainment and when the experiment
Goes black, what is the echo of could you pull me back, cornered
i see the walls of structure, ghosted remnants where we curled our signs
i existed once upon a story in the well of caught light, in the mornings
Of sorrow where you are not, in the burst dam of i broke through
The smallness of my own wanting, and i came here to be with you
Again and again, till the quiet overtakes us. If we write what is already
Understood, we stay rooted to this terror, i would ask impossibility
and call it love. i am asking you to architect your escape from progress
for we shall sing of things not yet come and of things of the past
we shall let the water of language wash it away.
Sunday, January 10, 2021
Raw Towns
For Bill Lavender
In the heart of deep hearts, no voodoo dolls
The shape of days, the hours we met and disappear, time
So fast it takes your breath away, how you can build a city
But still be a stranger in it, the way a story of a man floating in flood
Waters in a plastic pool will image carve into the crenellations
We call recollected history, in one lifetime you will have conversations
Barely recalled and words that turn swiftly the whole course & we
Gather here, patchwork defense mirroring, look i have unthreaded
The straight and narrow paths of arrival and departure: I would bet
Infinity in symbolic play, the truth of how any art meets and stabilizes
The future namings, you were the only person who dared say it
That maybe it was worth it to abandon the safe measures of prescriptions
That kept me numbed to wanting to die, imagined the length of travel
Insanity must venture & if love is not our place than why do we come here
If love is not how we see one another, why are we paying attention
I shed every safety net designed to cage in a whisper of what
Could your mind be missing, to be set apart from self possession
Campbell says, is the point of participation in a festival, the ritual
Of disassociation masks so fine, and even in the knowing that
We wear it, we revel in the apparition of this mythic state
This state of how we crumble from fearsome field to invulnerable
Abandoned structures, the shape of belief trembled along the loose
Sounds unspoken for in any quantum reality, once there is
there is no undoing, the error of our lives was never
Sleep’s frail hold or survival in the margins, it was
Never seeing clearly how deeply the coding we designed seeped
The barycenter pulls the eye to a centered light but the burning
Of that bright, unequivocal eye is as gentle as the sound of breathing
Not to go gently, but that we do not go is the line’s off course entry
Friday, January 08, 2021
Stand Closer
i bet this place is a bone silent whistling
under stars, the vowels of time, a constant
we made it this far but not very far from where we started
from up there, the horizon is a tone less
like i sd, we’re going the wrong way driving away from it
every poem is a trying to steal, i let you wheel
turned up, i ask what i can of you
if i show you this childhood, what does it seem
neighborhood drowned but my memory sharps against
i was hungry so long in this life
held inside, does love become a burden
blunt mouthed to stop speech, the corners of this living
fold down, i do and do not see you clearly
when you say i know more people who’ve died
who wins that standing, there were more photographs
than hours and more ways to never say what we mean
if we could just stay driving and never arrive, if we could
umbrella softest bits, struck match tip, it was this need inside
me to choose burning over ever just making it home
Wednesday, January 06, 2021
Kiosks of No Returns
Kiosk of No Returns
surive just about everything & you’ll end up at the mall
near the end of the movie,
when my grandmother died, i spoke at her funeral about how she was a painter and she said, you don’t paint the tree, you paint the space around the tree. she never said that. i am the poet & in grief, we near everything called living, we round it, do not go to places dangerous when there is a safe space to wander
you sent me this photograph while i was taking a bath
i lay there every night in this pandemic
terrified.
terrified of what comes next & who is gonna die. & am i
my children, my parents, you
how can you ask me to love in this place & we don’t
we go to spaces of abandon
to still the terror: Look, here’s a picture of a dying mall in
America,
h o m e ofthe f r e e
i want to tell someone of this fear but who has
any more room to hold it whose lap can you sit on
& say, what i want
what i want
what i want
is to be sure again, of why we built any of this. why we needed any of this. remind me why we crawled up out of the swamps for this excess of speed and glutton and was it to perfect suffering. have we reached that shore yet. have we designed it so perfectly we can’t ever go back or forward, but stay here taped off, an arrow marker to the place where you belong, and we’ve got the best prices in town.
you’ve got to fill the frame with our obelisks and titans to consumerism. ephemera of pleasures that filled us once. now we are empty display cases. now we are hand sanitizer to remind us how we broke off, our fossil beauty in beige and tan tiles for miles of smiles…. how did we know desire. what was left to discover here. we pushed beyond temporary till disposal was the birth of this nation, i sing of thee.
Photograph by Todd White
@hollarrr