all vowels
a tone
The greens
and
my socks
that
feeling
jutting forward
among the
leaves
of
this
tiny world
mouth
hand
and then
his
great
shots of
crumpled
attention
the
thing
I remember
cracked
cars
stairs
this
striped
little
dust
--
16 v 26
The canvas
swung.
inside.
some
recorded information
reviewed by
machine),
nature, and,
the
least
stir
collecting
into the greater
space
set aside
to revise,
abolish.
(and,
back), feed
the slip
of
speech,
bizarrely, spilled
before
you
Or,"
contin-
ued
another way,
that
surprise
you step from
to retrieve
the
course)
of times,
made
silent
and dull --
by
our
particular
pressure.")
occasional-
ly
to glance through it
A blur,
the
rushed
image
starting to open --
--
15 v 26
you
walk
over
it
enmeshed
passage
of
birds
helicopter
needle
& up close
blurry
white
of
glowing
lamps
and
denser
sky
steam
now
air
so
bright
it seems we're
watching
time
crossing
a dog
all
black
my
belly
relaxed
she
turns
her ear
face
sifting through
what's up
like the
pitches
straight forward
crimped
time
threw
off a
Language
a piece
I don't want
to read
--
14 v 26
(bluely)
Blinking
recognition,
Just
The
street.
a
man, in
cover-
alls,
Apparent
through the
paint
lined
time
enough to indulge some
look
in
filthy
Light and Changing
mumbles:
all
this
remembered.
in the dim
thunder of
syllable chains
you
pick out
flickering
in.
another
report
it
gets too big,"
In the
middle,
Frayed
enough to see through
and
absorbed by
the crowd,
into
some
rarer,
outside position
courted
in
more
spare time, or
matter
around
Children.
Footsteps, voices
blended
and blotted out,
kaleidoscopically
toward the
edge.
--
13 v 26
Wed May 20 @ Sowieso
Mark So performs live and recorded piano works, including underworld, LENZ and A Book of Palms // Raed Yassin & Mike Majkowski present their duo for double basses
photo: A Zürich street named for Georg Büchner, author of the novella Lenz
wet
sheets
the
mountain
curve
excess
grey
a hole
emptiness
folding
all
rustle &
cut
inside
waters
spelling
the
message
your
arm
relaxing
a
tiny
foam
of
opening
teeth
the
river
you
pushed
aside &
that
ding
in the end
of
a
rough
path
dumb
monument
trucks &
shadows
and
land
dashing into
us
mexico
his
hand on
pictures
open
surveillance
so many
connect
the past
the future
looping
at the top
the
mountains
gazing at the
crack
of
sun
blinding.
their
moods
I turn
the
side
little
bro-
ken
road
blaring
beautiful
a
little pinched
--
12 v 26
As you read
you
be-
come
The
protagonist,
a stranger. To all that is
also a stranger in this
time
walking among
prophesies.
You
land in
mys-
tery,
another appearance
searching for
language.
as
much as
a
world. The last part
entering the same
reading
until
you
become
the
"wide
un-
derworld.
running away
in
what
cannot see
another form,
history
experienced
As
something other than
an
end.
it turns on itself
be-
tween you and
the
Informal
Modular Calculus,
of
our language alike,
in a sense,
as
the
crowded
Light
Cut round,
ten thousand
places
pushing through
hand in
hand,
--
11 v 26
what
destruction portends
in
Something Worse Than
war --
The
text
"Broken
from
the
"bad
season
"Singing Into
"Young
days
"I hid in
bushes"
Precipice"
of a previous
collection,
writing
the
City
an
essay, we are committed to creating
diverse forms and
voices.
AND PRINTED MATTER
for
some brown creature
spewing
information
here
across
the shadow
&
shorts
way past
the
border
of
surface
ripples
my fingertips
in front of me
I can hear
the
soft
traffic
todays
color
and
tree
a green
that holds
me
by myself
is my
recording
slowly
gone
back on
what
already is
not
objects
but
this
spray of
something
mountainous
each
pile of
world
so warm
&
close
like
night
itself
rippling
in
pieces
everywhere
--
10 v 26
The social
ex-
perience of the body,
between
two kinds of
other.
a
hypothesis about
the
stages.
among
media.
Naming
the
mundane
extended repertoire of
incident,
through
its
field of
organization.
the
way
music is
realistic."
in the
use of
territories
restricted by
metonymic process,"
That
what something is
connects
to something else. Certainly
In this
sense, language
a web:
of
words,
entrance points into
all language
and
now the
world under,
language,
a secret
you
must go down to see.
into
time
the only writer in the world
down by the
water,
unknowable.
by means of words.
--
9 v 26
Today
a
list of ingredients
the
dish
I saw
set
out for breakfast
with
bread, and
figs
basement window
a book
Arrows
on pictures showing what
I wanted
my
amnesia induced
parole
survives
on
a
mountain
of
forgotten
days
the
dusty
wake
I laid
on
A warm feeling
full of
love
written
in sunshine,
my mouth
losing
you
in
A
thick
head
of
breath
the lungs of the
plot
drowning in
babbled
scriptures.
discreetly
swatting the air
blinking
vanished.
Under a
tree,
The actual
Things
beside another.
saying
You take too lightly
--
8 v 26
A
broken
little
reading,
veiled
in
air and
Birds
browned
grass.
thought of
as
the
picture
crossing back and
forth
entwined
into
light
laid bare
under the weight of
edges
Gathering
more and more
frame,
the
light
impounded.
over
this face which
belongs to the camera
breathing upon
the silence
in pictures
in-
terrupting the
continuum.
of in-
different life
Sliding down
From under closed eyelids
And
fresh
desire
with the picture,
emptying
into
vast low skies and
labyrinths
--
5 v 26
tell me
about the
stray
scatter. I
turn
into crumbs of
earth, and
hills,
pressing
against
the
dusted
light --
the
terrain before me
screened
between us
and
the
crawl. I
inch forward
dragging
my naked
breathing
after
it
halfway
in all directions.
The
dumpster
unknown
until then,
was
proof.
like
the others
placed
on
a
grid,
part of
the
ground
standing off to the side
like
a gong.
in
unobstructed.
changes. A sinking
marker
casually,
huddled in
rearview.
where I
forgot I was
--
4 v 26
