i

when unbound
by diversion, deserted
hopes misplace
the art of embracing emptiness,
as confines fill with accidental snags
in favour of hitch not hint

i

to skirt
around confines
is to internally billow in being
of appeal
to the catching wind that binds vacantly
occupied assurances

Keeping Silent

“… and the signs he made to her.” p.1(&2)

like his questions, continued in silence, but he had said:

“I will go on…”

in the beginning, however brutishly
and yet she never raised his voice
above verse, locking the river
inside his running, where stagnant
questions bank up. He knew ‘how’ in the sonic sense
just as the room was a barrier to him being in it,
because its length continued, as when he
had unendingly danced or paced, how the room’s
emptiness recurred as she ceaselessly
stared at a slanting instant full of dew-point consonants
and library book must: the fermented pages
numbering less than oNe even if counted backwards.

Never/ever/always

"The calm detour of thought, the return from itself to itself in waiting." p 41

"...shrouded in the writing, and carried by it beyond any possible beginning" she returned to waiting for never, with uncertainties rife and rivers creaking under chemistry, she could not quell diversion or bypass restraint, let alone face eels that slip through their own e’s, with a language that yields to catch. She always carried-back to page 1 where oNe glimpse closed over another. Did he remember how “continuance became length” ? when this way escaped that before morning, and yet more rivers burst the banks of tongue.

Airlift report

Rescue aborted - unable to land
due to persuasive weather: drizzle-sway

Telegram Two

Took rash turn between impetuous and impulsive stop need impromptu airlift

Mobile Still

“He walked ahead, marking out for her a path…” p.39

“… together we are separated by a locked room. Where oNe stands, they stand. When alone, doubts translate into certainties (had he meant never for certain?) She had no hesitation in being inconsistent, when you add up all the forgetting she had to do, it was no surprise their pages were numbered differently. And yet they mysteriously followed each other down passages read and unread. Rubbing time together in the weightless waiting room. When Fanshawe began eternally recurring on page 199, a phone had already rung on page 3, and the potency of n turned dialogue inside out. In case he heard in another language she said…

N/A

Handling small details of illusory essence
comes across as compatible with reality -
making believable make believe.

Last Night

After gush
you drove us in profile,
it has been so long since
there was like for like.

"... then,

“He was obliged first to discover the words with which she could then make him hear what she had to say to him.” p.26

“But then…. as soon as he had become waitless their rooms overlapped with shivering italics before running the river dry and re-filling it from memory. She half expected Maurice to hear their Infinite Conversation or at least understand what was hidden between paces or screened by yielding. Leaving traces unfinished, she could return any time and pool the pages, never refusing the tongue a vowel. He was perhaps separated from oNe line for days, but the library in his head confirmed company. Behind every square is a circle longing for corners. Unrolling Yes! down a path that proves liquid has expectations even if just to keep pace with place and make solid discoveries. But then,

Telegram One

Send scales and dictionary stop words weigh down meaning balance anticipated

Pacing

“The characteristic of the room is its emptiness.” p.7

“In the must again of process…even patiently pacing they appeared to be together in the emptiness, if not in the room. Was this a hiding place for the one who was standing? A length of time could yet be restored to short or go-between depth and the stare of an instant. She found it hard to recall the ceaseless less, however long she waited. Had someONE recurred unheard amongst speak again and hear again? He was thinking of More walks that may not have occurred. The room with its grassy carpet existed on the page, there he sat awhile between wheres. And she was here again at a point when “The words wear out in her the memory that they help her express” (p.7). In an unnaturally narrow room, was it possible to continue remembering? Who would forget first, leaving fullness in place of potency by slanted means. She, literally

Awaiting Here

“[for a long time what is awaited has served only to maintain the waiting,]”

“She is here

waiting to step over stop and lap against
his thinking that drinks on less-ness
and runs more past the page than dances
downstream. Each asking, padlocked in lateral limbo.
“Even as a river,--partly (it might seem)
Yielding to old remembrances,…”
hemmed in by forgetting
water wakes in the East