Tag Archives: Perception

Locus

Locus

 

early

dawn light at ease

in the bedrock

 

the conjunction

very little sleep

 

(pressure

 

 

night and language,

a symbol disappeared into

liquid depths,

neck broke

 

now ankle-deep, walks

from the flooded field

 

 

*

 

the length of a bird’s

claw

 

numbers become

irrelevant

 

infinite

intersecting

planes

 

in the old tree

 

 

*

 

grey wooden fence

two Canada geese

wire and brick through peeled stucco

yellow weed in the sidewalk

storm-sky through wires

no sign

 

*

 

news of a murder

on tv—

invisible forces.

 

Within a constellation,

imperceptible movement.

 

An alarm

vibrates.

 

*

The vertebral body

persists

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

alternate truth

alternate truth

 

 

the road through concrete

canyon cannot hold

 

 

a voice yells in an alley

candy wrapper

in the grating

wet cardboard box

cigarette

penny

reflection

 

 

all erodes

eventually

 

 

water,

air

find home

beneath asphalt

 

 

 

absent

ideology?—

 

 

“things as they are”

expands

 

 

*

 

 

less an antidote—

 

 

 

 

nourishment

 

*

 

 

algebraic confrontations

clog perception

 

 



Thanks Ms. Kellyann Conway for giving us “alternate facts” this morning. What a vein of gold you’ve given us. To the rest of us: fiercely protect the freedom of the press at all costs.

after the procession

after the procession

 

snow covers the monument

the tree-punctured sky

does not speak

 

an engine grinds

through the heart

of every brick

 

ridiculed to the point

of treason—

 

an avenue is not for walking

 

the ancient city

heaves up its dead

 

in the fliers and posters

that cover concrete walls—

 

the weight–

our armor,

our weakness

 

messages in cursive

 

stare hard at the face

in front of you

to remember

yourself before—

 

the lines and creases

words writhing

 

someone left the door ajar

to instinctive cruelties

 

to get out from the wall—

 

 

once it breaks, it breaks.

winter method

winter method

 

sound wavers within the altitude

 

small grains move between here

and the horizon

 

locus of the principe

 

territorial boundaries

 

in the repeat story,

as canyoned as marrow bones

 

*

 

a conifer grows northward

toward an anonymous star—

only a percent

 

ultimate joys

imprint

 

these roots gently in leftover nebulae

 

*

 

too, a story of fog—

 

molecules

stand up, begin slow movements

toward the hearer

 

*

 

hoof beats absorbed in the sand—

the she-horse escapes

east, down the road

 

everyone waits outside

infinity

 

 

ph(r)ase

ph(r)ase

 

synchronous

operation

opens hues only known

in passing—

 

the mind precedes

and follows by long

pauses

 

reach in, the image

swirls in displacement—

as known principle

that forms the earth,

her fragment moons

so ejected

 

leave aperture open and you’ll see

what they mean this is only

one phase of the question

 

sound- and scent-

triggers: bullfrog brooding

in the ditch, creaks the branch

against the trunk in the wind

 

our continuous kin, opens all windows

and screens thus replaced—

 

winds through gallery of all remnants

now displaced

 

weaves meaning, a unit

untethered from perception—

often the scale is wrong the words

wrong, but kinesthetic impulse,

auto correct

 

I’m telling you, I didn’t hear

what you heard. Song bird’s opteryx

lineage. Aquifers’

abduction. A honey bee

dies inside a flower. All

is meanwhile—

 

I fear I have no reason

to return, to intercept

of perception

and words

 

 

depth cues

depth cues

 

half in the sun, half

out, the right leg in halves,

quantifiable

 

implies divisions are tactile,

set in motion by an Ur

gesture, breathing in,

out, to let go,

as the declination

inclines

 

we can agree

the horse stands

at the far side of the blue

fence—we agree

 

but inclined, his nose

on the near side, reaches

for hours—

 

and the eye in residual

motion sees only

a crossing

 

I see motion

only after you move—

thought surfaces

across your face

a second before

 

I feel in my heart

a depth charge

 

I used to think wild

berries grew as the fruit

of dreaming; from within

the green and the dark,

such sweet, and bitter gestures

 

so knowing the circuitous

route of a songbird, the way

the other animals move

without obligation

or codes of reason

 

you can never trick your mind

to undo what’s done; objects

absorb as much as they can,

and reject the rest, which is

where we find ourselves

subject

 

 

Drawn from defects

Drawn from defects

 

Riots of reject hues

minute vi

brations against the intercept

 

loving interpretation or

distrait wonders through

forget-me

-nots

 

Best to love deeply as a flaw

than to skim pretty-pretty—

even as depth

inflicts the spiral

down

into scrap-heaped un

shining moments

 

Love the defect deeply as the only

sure thing

 

Please, reflect for now

one, a pool

of defects, as if chosen

by you for specifically

this

 

Please accept mirrors at pressure,

pretend you imagined them first,

not the interlope we share

through transduced zones

of winnowed light

and false starts which are

the only

start

 

Paint brush number 12—broad

and simple—with its own hand,

a series of force from source

to source

 

Listen: anonymous

translation in process

captures the original voice,

at a volume, multiplicative

so brush size

rarely a factor