Jay Besemer
from ANC067/068: Wounded Buildings/Simple Machines
the passage
I.
the passage, sore eyes, slow
emptiness. the darkness
beneath these half-bunkers
is a border. no monument
can touch me; all the doors
are shut & flush w/the walls
here. i am nowhere, these
silences bigger than my heart.
the passage, sore eyes, slow
emptiness. the darkness
beneath these half-bunkers
is a border. no monument
can touch me; all the doors
are shut & flush w/the walls
here. i am nowhere, these
silences bigger than my heart.
II.
concrete is a tree. concrete
is not a tree. not alive, not
open. some weapons-grade
bandshell illuminated with
dust. i see my house here,
the place where i grew up,
the land i roamed as a
child in search of nothing
i could name.
concrete is a tree. concrete
is not a tree. not alive, not
open. some weapons-grade
bandshell illuminated with
dust. i see my house here,
the place where i grew up,
the land i roamed as a
child in search of nothing
i could name.
III.
the horizon is deceptive.
tall presences emerge
from hazy absence. would
a body of meat have
meaning in these liquid
stone eruptions, these
teeth eating space in
endeavors of unknown
purpose? how does it
begin? how does it end?
the horizon is deceptive.
tall presences emerge
from hazy absence. would
a body of meat have
meaning in these liquid
stone eruptions, these
teeth eating space in
endeavors of unknown
purpose? how does it
begin? how does it end?
trees in your past
owl, cyclops, silent hunting-
flight, your lonely nest far
behind you.
flight, your lonely nest far
behind you.
in fright or in elation, the
people know your cold
meaning, your secret
interior & the stone blood
that sustains you.
people know your cold
meaning, your secret
interior & the stone blood
that sustains you.
trees in your past are as
numerous as prey.
numerous as prey.
black spoons
night has made it
around the world once more
around the world once more
& the diamonds have burrowed
into our hands
& out again
into our hands
& out again
leaving deep furrows
in flesh, in memory
in language on the tongue
in flesh, in memory
in language on the tongue
words removed
like thorns from soft stems
to give to girls
who run after horses
like thorns from soft stems
to give to girls
who run after horses
words removed
from black spoons & slid
covertly into jars
sealed with wax & pulp
from insects
from black spoons & slid
covertly into jars
sealed with wax & pulp
from insects
thoughts detained
like children kept
& kept & kept some more
like children kept
& kept & kept some more
there the missing words
are found
hidden in children’s
shadows
clinging to their torn
pockets
are found
hidden in children’s
shadows
clinging to their torn
pockets
the diamonds
gouging deep
deep
taking words away
until new words
can be bled out
formed into stone
gouging deep
deep
taking words away
until new words
can be bled out
formed into stone
& cast into a heap
a cairn
or a shelter
shifting
from one moment
to the next
a cairn
or a shelter
shifting
from one moment
to the next
peppered with rotting
grain
grain
the mallet
when
trembling
on the edge of it
trembling
on the edge of it
the horseshoe sky
the mallet
the mallet
the parents
of your wall
of your wall
horseshoe
alive with mountain
mistakenly
bordered
alive with mountain
mistakenly
bordered
they will never tire
of your water
they will drink of it
they will drink & drink
of your water
they will drink of it
they will drink & drink
turn their backs
to you
& grow loud
& exhausting
to you
& grow loud
& exhausting
you are trembling
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