Sheila E. Murphy
from NOUN THAT I’VE BEEN WATCHING
27.
map.
My relatives are vectors. They do bronze with flourish. I live in these clothes. I walk across the street. I sketch my autobiography. I flow with radio Shapiro. Are you listening to your beautiful self without me? Pry all you desire. I'm still this statue over here to your defiant over there. And when our hands join some TV will gather up the probability of its recurrence. Then what?
I have no spatial feeling. I go someplace and it's the same as here. I try to taste the silver that seems just like mine. I mean the stainless steel. Which war? The tin foil. Maynard G. Krebbs, right? I sit here and it's someplace I have walked to. For what reason are we not identical?
I mean I can talk to you regardless of your declaration of singularity. My own, your own, her fantasy of being one, at one, just one self left to seem a spoke spawned from a single hub.
What sparkles sun makes possible. A posse of near neighbors comes to us with some facsimile of birthday (singular). Everyone was born at once. You see? You dig? You feel esprit de corps? I thought that margins had a bridge to safety in them. I also thought about the work I have sustained.
Resilience is your only option. I grade you on that feature of your grading me. Perhaps you want to light my path. And name if after you. And copy how I cross each bridge hypothesized. And scamper across paths. And think about each one without its name.
28.
river.
she shelved recollection that would rhyme with swift or sweet. then reached for one of them to shape into a psyche. I am always her daughter, mark my age at birth I was inseparable with eternity and now there are not empty pages enough. I hope that she can hear me. I revert to her she never knew how core the links the integers the fond light now much I needed her. She never goes away I heard myself assume her place only a fraction as beloved where I took the reins and helped an individual be an individual.
if you are reading now we have a picnic basket and I take you to the Coldwater River. I like a proper noun to keep us co-registered within the truth of what I say to you. What teaches my skin something is the inner joy and pain. I would like the outer fencing to show white, that I might keep clean the intrusions.
Fire opposes as does earth. I feel a running prose and that means every sentence already occurs our job has been to find it. In an evening of an evening we converse. This may mean you and me. Nominative case so cared for has my hand.
For many days no one has done a thing my home is like a hospital people begin and then quickly conclude I suppose I might relax in a hot bath there seem to have been poems to help clear out or clear away confusion. It is just my way of staying alive outside the dream that taxes me. I feel usually taxed. I play through and the next moment I'm on the case. The few burdens I am willing to release become infractions anymore. Now hesitation comes to heel-toe magic.
Everybody here leaves the TV on. I have felt alone for many days because I'm trying to remain on top of the confusion. Nothing has been solved in a long while. Not a moment to be lost in gentle looking after climbing slate rock to discover white marks that would say something. To rub a derby might mean baldness will be next.
I look across the room and there is desert sunlight on the wall, no hint of any river now.
29.
sunflow(er).
indelible light. I hear that Tom is sick.
my telephone is not what my telephone.
I want to call through thick branches.
I will call through curtains. I will call
through vague clouds. I want to hear him
not be ill at all. I want to watch his
images, his words. I want to take the landslide
beauty and just polish it with my eyes.
admiring eyes. I want to take chances
and to be those chances.
it is about Tom's infinite ability.
about his impulse.
about his shining.
it is about everything that doesn't happen
because it already does.
it is about infinity
as clear as it is visible
and as adventurous as it is
perfect. every edge with
every other. this complex
and not at all. simplicity.
30.
haircut.
that he didn't have a chance (was never given
one). his talent ever on loan.
his discomfort in ex
plaining how and why he comes to be here
among the others. to help
out. not to be one
of these others.
that he is seen that way. that he feels
he is being
seen that way.
the speech, not easy to convey.
the way of life that says work all the time
because of your intelligence and lack
of place. that you perform because you can
because you know because you
have been seen by someone
who exists.
adventure is the same as
to exist. the road with him
upon it (being lived).
the road with him becoming second
or first person.
known.
apart from service.
in a role.
having watched and having listened.
having heard and having sung
(to himself).
having stood back avoiding
knowing what to say.
31.
pastel.
I called it crude be
cause the smudge me
ant nothing doing
in the way
of crispness. c
lean corners s
tate to me
control. the all
time value of the
masc.
I want to bonny you
up a bit I would prefer
a showing of reefer mad
cow. in a minute honey.
briar patch is newly
hatched. give me a little
room you buoyant
yeast.
it's terribly being call
ow no? if norms are westerly
then silence maybe has a claim
on rigid lines
to limn to sign
to wool away from
dark young lace.
if you would hasten
to agree with me, I would
propel my silk into
kite status and afford
the breeze to carry me
and you and her and
hymnals straight from
blimey. I would hillside
how you are you farthing
lamb.
it seems a little flat plane
how we live amid our
maze secretly logical
and plain. spellbound
curses such enlisted
evidence. maybe a shell
would help warm some
denomination back to life.
that rife with with with
(you know).
32.
chair.
my lower back is gloved.
to meld of cloth and clothes.
whatever poses I get into
show embedded things I do and feel
and think until I sleep stories anew.
impressionable nobody looks on
this moment of my privacy.
the lighted square of entertainment is on mute.
I have hovered near a family of divergent species.
Does it matter if I chain myself
to nothing. All parcels will arrive,
including me upon the doorstep
of my destination.
previous page contents next page
from NOUN THAT I’VE BEEN WATCHING
27.
map.
My relatives are vectors. They do bronze with flourish. I live in these clothes. I walk across the street. I sketch my autobiography. I flow with radio Shapiro. Are you listening to your beautiful self without me? Pry all you desire. I'm still this statue over here to your defiant over there. And when our hands join some TV will gather up the probability of its recurrence. Then what?
I have no spatial feeling. I go someplace and it's the same as here. I try to taste the silver that seems just like mine. I mean the stainless steel. Which war? The tin foil. Maynard G. Krebbs, right? I sit here and it's someplace I have walked to. For what reason are we not identical?
I mean I can talk to you regardless of your declaration of singularity. My own, your own, her fantasy of being one, at one, just one self left to seem a spoke spawned from a single hub.
What sparkles sun makes possible. A posse of near neighbors comes to us with some facsimile of birthday (singular). Everyone was born at once. You see? You dig? You feel esprit de corps? I thought that margins had a bridge to safety in them. I also thought about the work I have sustained.
Resilience is your only option. I grade you on that feature of your grading me. Perhaps you want to light my path. And name if after you. And copy how I cross each bridge hypothesized. And scamper across paths. And think about each one without its name.
28.
river.
she shelved recollection that would rhyme with swift or sweet. then reached for one of them to shape into a psyche. I am always her daughter, mark my age at birth I was inseparable with eternity and now there are not empty pages enough. I hope that she can hear me. I revert to her she never knew how core the links the integers the fond light now much I needed her. She never goes away I heard myself assume her place only a fraction as beloved where I took the reins and helped an individual be an individual.
if you are reading now we have a picnic basket and I take you to the Coldwater River. I like a proper noun to keep us co-registered within the truth of what I say to you. What teaches my skin something is the inner joy and pain. I would like the outer fencing to show white, that I might keep clean the intrusions.
Fire opposes as does earth. I feel a running prose and that means every sentence already occurs our job has been to find it. In an evening of an evening we converse. This may mean you and me. Nominative case so cared for has my hand.
For many days no one has done a thing my home is like a hospital people begin and then quickly conclude I suppose I might relax in a hot bath there seem to have been poems to help clear out or clear away confusion. It is just my way of staying alive outside the dream that taxes me. I feel usually taxed. I play through and the next moment I'm on the case. The few burdens I am willing to release become infractions anymore. Now hesitation comes to heel-toe magic.
Everybody here leaves the TV on. I have felt alone for many days because I'm trying to remain on top of the confusion. Nothing has been solved in a long while. Not a moment to be lost in gentle looking after climbing slate rock to discover white marks that would say something. To rub a derby might mean baldness will be next.
I look across the room and there is desert sunlight on the wall, no hint of any river now.
29.
sunflow(er).
indelible light. I hear that Tom is sick.
my telephone is not what my telephone.
I want to call through thick branches.
I will call through curtains. I will call
through vague clouds. I want to hear him
not be ill at all. I want to watch his
images, his words. I want to take the landslide
beauty and just polish it with my eyes.
admiring eyes. I want to take chances
and to be those chances.
it is about Tom's infinite ability.
about his impulse.
about his shining.
it is about everything that doesn't happen
because it already does.
it is about infinity
as clear as it is visible
and as adventurous as it is
perfect. every edge with
every other. this complex
and not at all. simplicity.
30.
haircut.
that he didn't have a chance (was never given
one). his talent ever on loan.
his discomfort in ex
plaining how and why he comes to be here
among the others. to help
out. not to be one
of these others.
that he is seen that way. that he feels
he is being
seen that way.
the speech, not easy to convey.
the way of life that says work all the time
because of your intelligence and lack
of place. that you perform because you can
because you know because you
have been seen by someone
who exists.
adventure is the same as
to exist. the road with him
upon it (being lived).
the road with him becoming second
or first person.
known.
apart from service.
in a role.
having watched and having listened.
having heard and having sung
(to himself).
having stood back avoiding
knowing what to say.
31.
pastel.
I called it crude be
cause the smudge me
ant nothing doing
in the way
of crispness. c
lean corners s
tate to me
control. the all
time value of the
masc.
I want to bonny you
up a bit I would prefer
a showing of reefer mad
cow. in a minute honey.
briar patch is newly
hatched. give me a little
room you buoyant
yeast.
it's terribly being call
ow no? if norms are westerly
then silence maybe has a claim
on rigid lines
to limn to sign
to wool away from
dark young lace.
if you would hasten
to agree with me, I would
propel my silk into
kite status and afford
the breeze to carry me
and you and her and
hymnals straight from
blimey. I would hillside
how you are you farthing
lamb.
it seems a little flat plane
how we live amid our
maze secretly logical
and plain. spellbound
curses such enlisted
evidence. maybe a shell
would help warm some
denomination back to life.
that rife with with with
(you know).
32.
chair.
my lower back is gloved.
to meld of cloth and clothes.
whatever poses I get into
show embedded things I do and feel
and think until I sleep stories anew.
impressionable nobody looks on
this moment of my privacy.
the lighted square of entertainment is on mute.
I have hovered near a family of divergent species.
Does it matter if I chain myself
to nothing. All parcels will arrive,
including me upon the doorstep
of my destination.
posted by mark young at 2:04 PM
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