Saturday, July 12, 2008

Being Arthur Russell

My percept a feeling divides
Like cells divide the eye
And sunset this and clouds that

Point to which drums shoot
The air up shake their fists
In the air some meaning of

Us was in your airs drip
ping down from the present
A series of strings verbs

Spiraling down from which
Identification is not your
Eyes seeing the wind skim

Across what iteration and
Irritants nearly touch
An idea of skin our image-

Forming suffused by music
Imagine a night-light’s
Inner life imagine forgetting

The meaning of all those
Little words like a conse
quence this breath burdened

By a bow and what the voice
Can do articulation folded
The air around in the event

Of this note duree betrayed
My heart of Avenue A in
The rain pigeons seemed to

Circle the sun so this was us
Their wings creased like
Gold leaf on a knife that is

The matting of our days
A way their simultaneity was
Not entirely in synch with

Anything one of them did
Or made social by a sing
ular turn of their wings.

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