From Tender Girl, a work in progress
Cell
The complete surprise of being unable to move in the face of an allegory of power. The walls. Wedged in solid air behind her back a vision of honored binaries moving along. Your prescience met its volley; it does matter to some people once you breach. A tall white space coveting spleen, a rigged jeopardy able to take the place of a thought Girl is trying to clear up. It isn’t the tropics managing crops without water. It isn’t the corn fields drinking and drinking what little there was. An animal fled softly through the same terrain and yet it was so visible, sibilant visibility, mouth awhisper with sheaves from ear to ear rustling fled cease. These concept right and wrong, whose are they? That, said the thoughtful guard, is a valley throw, a fair sequitor, an honored binary forced to its knees. The guard in the sense of talking person. She, the bucket, the fickle window, all no closer.
The parallel of the fox
He was a cleverer, he adapted My life had stood a loaded gun in corners til a day I picked that motherfucker up and blew myself away. The eyes looked once at my own death impossible to feign the happiness they both surmised to see me trouncing pain. My eyes are straight in front of me the world bends all around but vision can’t reverberate like sound. Yes but where were you born? In the water someplace. I don’t think of as home. Authenticity is always happening someplace else, you grock. Because this conversation was interesting, she wrapped herself in videotape by way of a slow answer. Empathy or metaphor, story stairs. She was becoming visible with stickers, a self-guided tour through the cosmic mirror, honey.
Trust shack
In the middle of the field in the middle of the veldt in the middle of his mind some treated timber, a passel of nails, an excellent hammer, gravel, concrete blocks, plans for a pent roof, plywood sheets, roof purlins, cladding board, fair barton. He planned all that and she was watching. A bed a chair a table. Desire finds infinite forms. Getting the hang of the local.
Eye witness
The square is full of articles of cloth, of piles of fruit and amber bags, of a person or two delivering little speeches, massed contentment polishing itself over little silver stakes and implied promises. Girl hears voices wandering through the wettest part of the air, soothing and slip-shod compared to the extraneous sociality she’s amidst. Water is running down one side of the square, a diffident rivulet. The woman Girl is walking beside is talented, her soft belly crated in a dress, a boxed-out sound impure and oblivious in her voice as she shares her news with Girl. The company flicked its fingers over the market offerings, cigarettes in violet habit resumed on the periphery, Girl takes her impoverished breaths nearby and steers her friend away. The surface scars of her tattoos inspire Girl to make pictures with needle melting wire on the canvas, direct painting, cataleptic thought patterns right around the edges, the massing people like parastaltic reception standing apropos of this town’s need for self-expressed vending. Girl’s scarf whirled like a purled indemnity over the scene.
Training
Girl knew she would have a very long time to think about all this. To come. Though lately her pains had been growing and she wasn’t as sure as at first. The bodies of her friends kept appearing on tables. It was a cloudy day and ascription wasn’t as easy as at first. She went claiming toward the church as safer smiles abounding.
Picking wasn’t for everyone sent on a momentary journey, kept opened and kept perdurable, ice cubes melting on the sweet of her brow spicy as rain, lapped scores aplenty. Here were whirls, telos meters upright in front of the choir, open mandibles hawing and humming through restraints, hardly any solitude or broken locks anywhere.
Open door
Meditation, what is that. Girl granted. She sat still looking at an intense wall, the grains of whose painting revealed a saturated depth her eyes unaccustomed sea walls could not stop. The partitions of granules into tiny crusted particle waves upon whom the eye could not linger. She decided Ramsey was like the sun fish she had known, turned on its side up at the surface for cleaning by the birds, a plucked assortment of pores and veins, a huge thing in the water. Letting that thought go, letting it go. One could pull the parasites out slowly so they wouldn’t break, best for the sun fish she had known. Let that one go, let it go. Bring another image of Ramsey lolling at the break, the sun visiting his outline like a fish, the birds gently eating to help everyone, let go. Ramsey was a kind guarder of his own life works which were un-manifest as a whole, let go. The mind must falter toward release, breathe in the dry, let out your water in the air, breathe. Alchemy wished to make gold out of base metals, a change for the water of life, aqua vitae, she stroked on the walk over here a stone, a lapis matter morphing lovely blue philosophorum like the back wall of her eyes when water was all round, letting go. Let go. Matter, matter, the wall gentle the air half-infused with water for her demi-lungs, hhhhhhh. That one time fabric, the wet opportunity, let go, hhhhhhh. The wall was illuminating the inside of her skull, redder and philosophical let go. The soft hand inside her own the tree in which she’d lived the inner part of the branches so bent down. Filius, the lovely woman who made silver jewelry under the moon, let go. That non-specific knowledge inside, out. She put salt on everything she ate but creamy things that were like the cloudy bodies gathering sea letting go, let go. Hhhhhhh, mhmhmhmh, hhhhhhhh, the sun shone down on one part of the dark water you understood that was subject to separation, one’s swimming techniques bringing one around the curve, the moon. The burning after a bite. Let go. Her whole mind was the Dead Sea floating, for which the image of the ruined lake was like a mirror held against the flesh let go, lovely year ears trembling hhhhhhh, mhmhmhm, hhhhhhhh, the perfect and the broken are the same let go. The wall looked on in tender solitude. The moisture was streaming out of her body.
©Lisa Samuels |
