~ for Rob & Elka
I.
Turning the inside in makes a cut
In air material here our hands
And tools die to make us
Instruments if not a tunnel
For their labor recollected
By triumphal sections time squares
Lived rooms since we are sometimes
Wherein air nets mesh to sky again
The dead or dig a portal to
Lived chips actually tend to slivers
See nothing notwithstanding
The roof without its house
Conveys me as you push us around
Where time won't be put the *socius*
Remained we must be exactly
This consequence of saws as they cut
A shade to lift light from the impossible
Places posited in actual structure
Evictions stand-still in our immanence
Transcendence is already against
Beginning or end text cut trace
Unredeemably over our heads
Elsewhere remiss in cindered dawn
Design begs to be demolished
Fresh Kills cut to any gull any blood
In our backyard Niagara's dead
Return from property relations.
II.
Like we were this zone
So you say of magnets Poland
Recovered in Ukraine as one sings
You become a virgin
Of insalvageables remaining
This saintly video blue
Aglow in innocence drawings
The paint in your motions there
Already arrived aflicker with gifts
Exposures so you say
Of fields we sacrifice that this
Is an economy to wander for.
III.
Who falls on time but is not time fallen?
This piece of you grows
To a process removed
From totality mythology
Is dead to me whenever
You are here I am also I.
