report 000011: silt & stretch

no. 1: (hands laced behind back to audience) now, where were we? how one speaks out/the problem of the absent lover. that reason by which we write; realign all them tiny magnets, wiping drives, stretching out our syntaxes again by some magic of prose, the way the land opens up beneath you when you/out here/nights when the

blood moon& meteor showers occur without waiting for: where you find them. epistolary desire as much a part of us as mesenchyme: how we are filled in with: the wedges we drive between our now & that which may or may not have lined our previous trajectories, may divert our glacial bounty; sluicing. the more unstrung--

but all text transferred between agents is/howyoucallit/a dance, corresponden(ts')ce seduction. &&&no truly the thing never as onanistic as: for always sent forth: with the end of the line knotted 'round the waist, one waits. SASE or that note crumpled in an empty of glenlivet: all calls. but it is easier

on the (free)lancing neurons talking themselves 'round in their accustomed rhythms. your iamb overtreading: it is less knotty by half to call you up, some ephemera of you (whose? which? possessi(ves)on--) that least stable of signifiers when/ the lyric subject has, as it is, disentangled itself from the hands &hips that typically entrap. (a pause, breath, smoothing of unwashed hair) this makes me nervous.

but i too nervy always & gliding your parachute, the least elegant of deaths: the paroxysm of last laughter gasping as/ you know/that which you hoped would save merely asphyxiates. i can live with that, or much else as you know: that hollow, your brush of hair, that great heat. eugh. i am long out of practice. some days i think

i should stick to what i know. but i was never: good: for that; & the tetanus-rust that coats the lips no excuse, not a pay-slip--i'll sign for that. that's what these muscles have been built up for: & everything after.