from Counterelegy

By | 1 November 2017

What role, in the new world, will patience play? I never end conversations
first. (What else is surveillance?) Four dimensions confuse anger with another
dividend. A symptom walks into a bar, but what do you remember about
the consolation? Inside the kitchen, did light intercept you and turn ersatz
into lengths of angels’ marrow? Chevrons incline along the service road.
In another hometown, starlight involutes.


In Star Wars droids do not enter emotional calculus; they constitute
its logic from the opening sequence in which human society, as a hologram of
urgency, haltingly emits the eulogy. Elaboration is a forgotten policy
number. Storm troopers are abacuses of tension between the new, everyday
life and a future district. My father will know how to retrieve it.


Which anxiety was truthful? Our neighbor tirelessly repositions
his lawn chairs under the shadows. Is our kitchen visible from each hour
you tried to wear, despite the blisters? (I only want to feel guilty when
I look good feeling it.) Did you see, before we started guessing,
the tensile adolescents slow their jog? An awning neglects. It’s humid,
or was your point that we could, after dark, misremember the plot.


To stand at the ticket counter. To organize another side effect
along the brightening meridians of the tapering shoulder.
Thoroughgoing natures of the yielding dowels or you, first.
More slack, or a reflection’s edge skitters along the creosote.


A pigeons flies into the window. China dries. Love entrains
their party, piles of split wood. That’s no moon. Do you hear the sputtering
lumens? Windowless throat. Parabolic enclosure. Another
sympathy turns the faucet, or walks outside, and ignores the dissipative
repetitions under which I might otherwise turn, or comprehend.

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