for sound, crossing, mobility, eXchange, for doubt & uncertainty, bird cries, duende, multiplicity, former, eXcess, Xcountry
7.28.2008
Opening Gambit
7.24.2008
Orono '08
(a sideways response to the National Poetry Foundation’s Seventies Conference June 2008)
this
little swan’s neck
this
in between the two
from green and green
striated by stalks
white poplar paper ash
breast a garnet among apples or
whispering pines
black flies
gooey in eyes and lips
orono derives from the penobscot indian chief
perhaps there was a meadow
to drift
always a night sky
what stasis in a bed two sheets
a blanket a window open to the night
breezes books but too many
people to read them
am I inside the bottle?
can there properly be said to be
an externicity?
you can share my aorta clark coolidge
nicole I will make your bed
for you be a goose feather
among other eider
bernadette your memory
ticks the voice
from the past a pipe
3-d some photos though dark
illustrate a dramatic sky b/w tall buildings (again)
a liminal hymn
again a sparse room
clothes hung on a fire escape
have flown your body
& are a part
metonymic moans alongside the corps
the corps texte the cortex oh nicole
you squeeze from flaps of skin
bits of protein dna flushed
into auditorium seats a gaunt body swaying
with art or bersani’s shattering
didn’t anyone see?
joe b’s if nancy was
(I got your minnie
hair in my mouth)
and katz’s faces of the
poets w h i t e out the gallery
poet bodies mulled dispersed photographed
kevin’s black and white
stripes moving into a –riley? in the hall of bernadette
jayne you made us
B & K are school boys on the bus
rob and I in front
we play dodge & seek
to have ate
eaten ain’t
ought
fall
depart
mediation– I meant meditation– in airports
prone the window pictures
Manhattan in the distance
inlaid ceiling gray and white dusk ash
eggshell ebony ekstasis
oh moving sidewalks
in a tunnel flanked
by flat screen panels
depicting urban street life
passing
neon tube lighting somehow
rest or joy
sheer mobility inside
a machine
chaplain’s modern times
moving among rapt
gears
Robin Tremblay-McGaw