Chris Gutkind

from Digits After Orph


1꞉3

Songs can do, how does flesh follow/turn code?
Dry me split you, load my lazy heart to go on/in.
Make consumption flower wishing, yes we can.
Be memory tomorrow. Maybe desire converts,
urgent done techly, exposed catching/selling me
in chips and drive, loving/losing in metal nows.
Desire can't everything. Easy for some to copy.
And if I end being outer or nearly/what of skin?
Sure there's stars oceans street and wind there
somehow feeling. What of smell? I'm oldtiming,
as going things/using hands and eyes your's too.
Pick second life, forget my body it goes anyway.
Living is what stays when we leave. Be Exxons.
The time worth eating gets made with likelands.



1꞉4

Selfers and spyers we're the natural.goo ones,
following myselves in skinless accounts or you,
speedysum, loaded up/down, my diced senses,
joining as an URL who hardly feels the lessing.
You rushy, unbreathing air, webworkhome'd,
fervent belongy, it's our map in your picface!
Who knows how to last there? I do, don't you?
Smile then, I won't see. I'll sad, you won't see.
Who wants to suffer? If you want to stay back.
Everything be like like. My bodyweight going
with ice and oil, gone in your ground dreams.
What's a tree? Or profiles you wage in ourself
and blogged to. Go inside them, that's a start.
It's cosy there. Screw Earth. It'll repair itself.




1꞉3 [reverst]

The time worth eating gets made with/like lands.
Living is what? Stays when we leave be? Exxon's
pick second life, forget my body, it goes anyway
as going: things using hands and eyes, your's too
somehow, feeling what? Of smell I'm old timing.
Sure there's stars oceans street and wind? There
and if I, endbeing, outer or nearly what of? Skin
desire? Can't everything easy! For some to copy
in chips and drive loving! Losing in metal, now's
urgent done techly, exposed catching, selling me
be-memory! Tomorrow may be desire! Converts
make consumption flower, wishing yes! We can
dry me split, you load my lazy heart. To go on in
songs can do/how does flesh? Follow Turncode!



1꞉4 [reverst]

It's cosy there, screw Earth, it'll repair itself
and blog. To leave/inside them – that's a start!
What's a tree or profiles? You wage in ourself
with ice, and oil gone in, your ground dreams
everything. Be like, like my bodyweight. Going?
Who wants to. Suffer? If you want to stay back- 
smile then, I won't. See, I'll sad you, won't see
who knows. How to last? There I do/don't! You
fervent, belongy its our map, in your picface!
You rushy unbreathing/airweb, workhome'd,
joining as an URL. Who hardly feels the lessing
speedysum? Loaded up, down my diced senses
following myselves. In skinless accounts or you
selfers and spyers, we're the natural gooones!






Chris Gutkind grew up mostly in Montreal and has lived in London 
for decades. He has had three books out, including Inside to Outside  
from Shearsman and Options (with artist Trevor Simmons) from Knives 
Forks Spoons.

He writes: "About this sequence there's much to say but essentially 
it is gridded atop Rilke's Sonnets to Orpheus but while that 
sequence is one of presence, and I'm very fond of it, mine is one of 
absence more or less and, sadly, kinda dystopic."
 
 

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