Arpine Konyalian Grenier

Arcades is friend

No more than the bird with piercing voice
a most political scream ever divergent
and I happen with words
to die soon after

how do I renew innocence then
the accounting for variables
musculating radical/
inmate/ Sufi

what and why choose life is the pitch
shorn of volume and timber
implicated or objective

               one cannot enact the ant to grasshopper story

I swipe at the memory of you to align
that roadside photograph of you
what’s white what’s not

the vanishing of absence allows
while one finger paints a past
time away from so much
unaccounted for

                              hold thought for now

the unity of inside and outside gives
why do I consider you part of me
the cushion needs causa sui

I still have no name for you as we
binary over speculated lifetimes
crawl into coherent sound

               well tagged Kekule patterns that we are

eye brain heart pierced out on the table
prong palate seed lisping how
we in and out of self
were light

ah to be sound and light again

though fact cannot reduce to symbol
I chase gaze to track you
rethinking for texture
one must

war and consumption do not

               life causes them

rigor behind the concept es gibt
vanity abolishes being
invokes bird

to refute is useless
where there is so much world.


I shall soon expire having outlived myself
                                             do I will you? do I feel you?

like some rosed manuscript you’re not where you’re supposed to be
                                                                           I am not either

such commonplace tunnel is oblivion is pride
expectant and exposed never landscape
eluding or explaining but also
bridging part of nothing
but pain
                              so how can we say of matter

               crown of situations just because it punks realm
what rhymes with celestial what rhymes the bestial

we’re all done now warn me lament me raise me wicked
snip drip slice dice rise from the done fairytale

                                             honorable source

not a hero’s not impoverished but diminished honey
having a hard day is a phrase with no syllables
my last illusion still my first

                              honey to holy prejudice
                                             flush it out

knowing travels along feeling and the telegraphic
               the pathological laugh will save me

where will your revenge place me then
what reward will flex muscle at me

aren’t we all traveling in the same direction?
why then the loneliness and sorrow?

                              seek ye consequence to be Godly

karma is retribution psychosurgery laments
the art the heart

                              laws protect the shudder
                                   lawful integration

                         how much of it do I want

such scandal separates me from the roaring and the green
unknown to itself and the idea behind its decay

          cured of and with pulsation

we must mull over this up-rooted-ness this herd of nafs tales
turned into wanton tail of spirit (the translation is fearful)
the infelicity of just because meaningful as in neither
embodied nor embedded rods and cones
zigzag with some sense of I feel good
the I all over itself differentiating

mine is in Konya because I heard the silent loosen their jaws
for one last cry one more good look at the neighborhood
their lazy shadow over grandmother’s porch
doused with memories

                                                            don’t ask for much
come to birth as magnificence in waiting

                                             lowlands bought back cure themselves
                              an event in Konya waits for expression
               as an accomplice paints oblivion
                                                            then eats it

what happened will always be a when
we insist on its parts
                                             low-life boundary

               it is a matter of bookkeeping I say
                              does your blue take away my wish for blue?
                                             does sky take away from blue?

                                             where is the third in all this
after all self is a space working itself robustly

I rose when spring declined summer I leftist women and children leftover trumped movement even as matter is sound to sense I indicated cipher a them in me I know and do not know touched and not touched corruption bidding an otherwise

begetting in my face as I ruminate nothing of my own is mine come lie down with your parts and breathe like Abraham wear your days as you come into your days reveal conceal peal deal
                                                            unlike Noah or Adam
                                             heal as one from Eden

Shekhinah is Eden is dwelling I have had none so far
living my source to my level of drop off and pickup

a title run professes to lavishly situated assertions
lengthy and widely accepted parts moving
sworn to appear firmly directed


as one appears the other sees that’s why the sky
related at the wink of an eye levels
safely begs self out of equation
lest memory is full

                              sweet sky unto itself domesticated
                                                            soul gone mad

               beaten to syntax it arbiters days
               functioning as parts

lonely tap of no character
my dwelling is with you

weigh your flutters to get to know self
to absorb hard & fast symmetry
a costly concept

prescribe for yourself dilation/ erasure
muster (third person that you are)
the duration facing you.

If not, winter

The world could have been a ball floating over water
could have towered Americanly about truth & logic
what comes to mind naturally obstacle I posit
a social versus natural phenomenon
Ecclesiastes breathes
                                                                           defined by it

the industrial production numbers are in
floating desire on top some melody
to recognize and hence distance
to ground the intended

countrymen beholden to townspeople
built around food climate occupation
neither mourning nor refusing
the possibility of knowing
the cautionary

               peel away possibility then
                              the fall defining I exist

no greater effort requires solidarity then
regard less the ice cap’s meltdown
truth comes to mind naturally
just because

as love is to heart authority is to a state
living the tribal social we must
build over bare necessity

one cannot hoard as that does not predicate
states or statements
the Adamly

                              transcribed in charity

what would I do without props for predicator?

                                                            pare pare down

                                                                           dead leaf


                                                            kite butterfly

               when is the qualifier excluded?

December to January American Tropical Blue
symbols blocked to permit the view
speaking without being

colony after colony the tune
a place the roll call lacks
the center

a world facing the narcic excretes itself
butterflies remember valence my heart
neither aimed nor anchored to debt
part symbol part symptom
skating contamination

as we calculus and sonnet our senses
(what sense) getting what we want
a radio bubble too many
extruded for love

               what are your plans for later?

where are the negatives of this land they say
we stretch as gravity differential imposes
common sense the limit and then
one has no need for qualifier
accident prone.

Arpine Konyalian Grenier comes from science, music and the arts. The Concession Stand: Exaptation at the Margins (Otoliths, 2011) is her latest collection.
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