from The Last 4 Things
Background: the liquid form
we call water. The blue is in the world.
Something is wrong with the women and the men.
Stone is stronger. “My body is on fire.”
That ‘existence’ was ‘pain,’ another list of fors.
The first divided by the second is equal to the third,
divided by the fourth.
fire air earth
north south west
like a moat
a weakness for blue
light blown thin
like the picture of the glass and the book
There is a chart for America.
A part of the world can’t be visited.
We worshipped these names as the names
of our gods. The woman’s high heel, the giant bug,
the little viking hat. I only have my personality to work with.
Silver spike, the water at the end
of the street. And what would everyone do then.
Black, the color of space, mourning,
is green for rain. As if a legend to a map,
I saw the room and
wanted the life.
Wool men! we must consider:
what beauty means in the moth’s world.
Call me your angel, your
acid mantle. Call me the cricket on the hearth.
Come this far. Look briefly
into the past. Living in a house inside a house,
you receive a transmission of “meaning” energy
you cannot decipher.
Nothing marks the turn.
Early discussions about bridging a river.
of crossing. She had been there, the first to leave the village.
Henceforth, the highest thing.
Teleport an object.
a short distance (the contemplated work).
Before the bridge was built, the early bridge,
I never knew where I was.
I was turned, in another direction
so long. I wanted to explain.
Teleport yourself a long distance.
No one imagined
how long you’d sleep. I wanted to explain—
it didn’t mean that I was turning away.
The canals with their black reflections, blacker than asphalt…
Black… and then,
the fingers… Nothing but a breath.
The ear is usually solid, I think.
The little body
We doubt, and are doubted. But it must be borne.
|kate greenstreet’s first book, case sensitive, is just out from Ahsahta Press. Visit her online at kickingwind.com.|