sharing a space
darkly telling time
a few words must be said
spreading light
words, unlikeness
turned out
opaque
now among us
a little breathing
gypse
such fine grains
this tabula rasa
a break
between invisible air
to unravel
blackness, feeling
becoming now
the machinery of contact
Yesterday from the outside in
left over
part of the room
in labor of public works
inside, somewhere
over silent tracks
talking
a pleated old life in letters to live
reading or not
to hear in writing
common stock
falling words
undisguised part of the difference
a form of time
flowing into my hands
newly breaking
pages' song
some land
stretched threadbare with lack
heard through the dust
animales y plantas
crystalized
in certain conditions of temperature
of closeness, of intimacy
with mineral nature, inorganic
palabras
there is a picture here
opening and closing
the world in the landscape beneath the surface
all underneath what was there before
passing in hindsight
little thread
under wide and distant sounds
the physics of ideation
lost between tracks
lying there, a sheet
scratched sound
at the edge of the fading sky ahead
gone by into a new distance
remaining in the air
side by side
shade of the other side
crumbling in air
reading the whole time
what mouth and ruin
opens before us
now part of a wave
inside this life
vaguely unfinished, ecstatic
daylight on the floor and time sounding
the impression is lodged on the surface
colliding with blue sky
folding and unfolding their room
a kind of illumination
and degradation
interior black of this lightness
and handfuls of wind overheard
in blackness
talking tones
part of the room
country, now
emptiness
and residual stuff inside, somewhere
the pile of dated flow
in my mouth here, too
waving in the air
and this transition
turned open slowly
haunted by vacancy
and a little bit of something floats off
another part unwinding
the tapestry of interconnection
always open
one thing after another
the most exposed inwardness
to turn over in hands that touch all I say
now, instruments are of various sorts
and not by mere accident
the word in the midst of writing
heard back
and made of this
time advancing
in points along the frontier between the two worlds
you found and opened on this day
drifting over the track one minute, invisible the next
malcontent
here in the wind
lost between tracks
to begin the music that will bring back the world in spells
along the ranks of silence
death and afterlife
there is no sacredness
at the edge
following into the part
found voice
reading the whole time
markings that coiled lazily in the middle of the air
ecstatic
this time
beneath the surface
all underneath what was there before, new for you
found and opened on this day
such time as I noticed
the moment before under wide and distant sounds
whole afternoons just sitting there
breath and feeling
right here in this town
scratched
over the side
depressed through everything
in bursts of abundance
remaining in
a chain cut like a row
talking it over
I accept everything
listening again to the distant clamor
intermingling sensations
inside this life
to continually open with connection
the impression
leaking through the sweaty day
in a quiet room
few choices to make
in the narrow roads
carrying on the state of letters
and handfuls of wind
overheard
neither a staging ground of history nor a human domicile
like dolphins
but a human
neither rising or falling
like breathing
stroke on stroke
wild words
before this pause
a break in recording
--
9-10 vi 2023
marfa book co. / maintenant marfa
written in concert with manfred werder
presented in memory of elaine barkin (1932-2023)
DEATH-SPIRAL 9, 1
MARFA, TEXAS 2023
death-spiral.net