Friday, January 04, 2008
A Devotion
~ for Nathaniel Dorsky
Coincident to this legibility learning newly
How to see or be duration sometimes an image
Is only an image we take this to heart the time
It takes to make out bends beads like light
Itself emergent from life sequent like a thousand
Stars were numbers that weren't the dark any
Longer nor separate seemingly from water
The words for images broken here we call them
Articulate we say they present articulation itself
An interruption of the present tense while we
See we see a lot of branches tracking branches
Forest focus black sun then don't light up the world
Again one flown stem I knew I was hallucinating
Then the world woke up each new sequence
For what potentia the bright ambiance the solitude
Of the image like a singing of the eyes to attention
In variance forest focus film the things moments
We won’t forget because we will them to not
Become forgotten because the memory is coincident
To this will because we are all short or long takes
Duration has a life of its own image coincident like
Suns suddenly vacant like close-ups of pavement
Matter like spirit or throwing the ball back or
“or” itself as a hinge for all perception language
Flickered and was a magnet for the attention
The appearance of the world and the world itself
A prayer said with the help of lenses cropping cris-
crossing one’s somnolence in distraction also
A pattern of attention that fabric of waves chain-
linked those eyes groping for some purchase shadows
Or any outline overlapping shade leaves separate
One reflection from another the mannequins lips part
What light replaces a lens flare so here burns up.
Last Man
My heart your paradise called
Secret water by the Sioux hack
Supplies first then hack spirit
When we don’t have anything
Left but this dance assimilation
Calls our names that is what it
Does like Hannah taught us to
Be silent what boundaries must
These hands forge to say any
Thing the spirit came and went
Don’t forget to write witness
When the shit hits the fan
Sitting Bull was the last man
Standing to what do you banish
Permanent exiles but to undeath
Promise me the imminent end
Of all white culture so all names
May return eccentric to need.
Secret water by the Sioux hack
Supplies first then hack spirit
When we don’t have anything
Left but this dance assimilation
Calls our names that is what it
Does like Hannah taught us to
Be silent what boundaries must
These hands forge to say any
Thing the spirit came and went
Don’t forget to write witness
When the shit hits the fan
Sitting Bull was the last man
Standing to what do you banish
Permanent exiles but to undeath
Promise me the imminent end
Of all white culture so all names
May return eccentric to need.