Friday, March 25, 2011

305. A Body of Words

the arc of transparency against
a dull flat sky | this body of text
must through | and again through
to slip as a scrim of grey cloud

perilous to take | the word of the text
as the meaning | of the word or heard
strange to come to a running stream
of text | and strange to be unfettered

faded in the light of sunshine to a
yellow | and newspaper carries
the stench of the rotting body of
words words words | and words

take in flagrant | care and garnered
hope | a pistil full of style yet stigma
and the branch of sight elongates
along the trickling summer’s creek

only through the word is there that
flower | and its petals falling only
to be imagined as words | inedible
indelible | a credible force of sense

see the movement of the flow of the
words as a band of words in moving
flow and flowing movingly towards
the end the halt the stop | the stop

to be in the text as a woman of the text
is to read in the text as a reader of text
or to write out the text as a motion of text
to inhabit the text as a livingspace of text

do not keep quiet the body | motion for
birth of body | quiet in the text of words
what you see is what you read as you write
a body of text on a body of flesh and furrows

write in the syntax | in the word of text
in the cloth of the textile through the word
silent in the voiceless | in the urge of being
buried by body and bodily buried from birth

word that cannot | from the wreck of word
sentence from a syntactical tactic of making
to make from a pistil | the pencil or pen
to write with a pen | is to write for an ever

coded against the flat blue sky | and a rain
that comes down upon the body of the text
coated by the rain | in drenchings of falling
fills the text of the body with what it sees

under a perilous and perforated sky
performing a language through the I
the language becomes her | as she
exceeds the weight and wrinkle of words

life encoded body text | of desperate life
embodied text of written life of her
in here | and blinded by the body of
her words to speak a body of words

not spoken | but broken from the sense
of word bespoke | and silent of the page
where word is not the meaning of itself
but itself | sound that’s signifying nothing

writes because she writhes | and marked
with words | as a body of words as her
body of words | on the words a body holds
close enough to write with | enough to lose

word not fixt to the page | sense not fixt
to a word | foot not fixt to a floor | two
not fixt to a towing | fact not fixt to an act
fact of writing not fixt to the act of being

structure of the body of the text | seen
as a body of the person | felt as a body
of the heart | ruptured as a foreign body
structure as a rupture of the structure

play in the joy of the body of text
write in the beach of the joy of the text
say in the body of the body of self
feel in the sense of the body made text

invisible as the arc of the transparent sky
blue as the branch of the tree | white as
the milk of the body | ink as the white of
the body | write from the bottle of ink

and drink | of the body of the bottle
of the ink that flows | in white as cloud
on white of page | as branch of tree and
pulped and bleached and flattened down

body that makes the body that makes the ink
ink that writes the word that makes the body
page that takes the ink accepts the body
white to be the word of meaning washed and out

word that is the blood of body running white
page that is the skin of body black or white
ink that is the rhythm of the blood in white
body that makes the breath that turns to white

one as one and whole | and written in the margins
white in margins | written as the word is purged
purge of word of meaning | stable and enabled
measure of the meaning | measured by the meant

slash from the whole | and the word as cloud
left from the hole so that cloud can move
what was white and writing and writhing on
is clear and calm | invisibly blue

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