Susan Gangel


An Excerpt from Particle Theory, a work in progress


Eight Moments in the Pasture


1:   Litany

Assuming ducks
Patents pending

An extant basket of shoehorns
Caught my eye

Integer for a stolen moment
I lit out the back way

…

Unmanageable crowds on the platform
Way too many payphones

They light the fire anyway
Light it up again

Can’t help asking
Those girls’ ropes skipping

…



2: Chivalry

Rockets in her hair
Too much mustard

Hot dogging around each other
& name calling on a cloudy day

Outbursts of the old gunpowder
Left too long by the stove

…



3:  Liturgy

Spellbound ear flaps
Sandblasting your screen

No jazz to account for mistakes
In the fizzling rain

Just the cloud itself
Just its promise

…

Giddy falcons off their mountain
Unstuck flag is waving

Entrance blocked and spikes
Quizzing it

She tries it on
At closing time

…



4:  Eulogy

I’m with you
The edges
And the wild grasses

Beggars with their souls
Upside down
Flowers dropping in the doorways

The crops ruin in the blazing sun
Black spots a teardrop

And the ladders don’t lean
On the broken trees

Like they used to

…



5:   Epiphany

Contrary hints of winter

Ligament for
It
Or

(31)

Revelry taut
As high pitch

Stadia

Bring our things to market
Ships stalled
In the sand

…



6:  Destiny

Ends
Up

Disturbs front mechanism
Twice

Yon fielding throw does
After that a yarrow too
Often

Take all precautions
All the ham 
you can eat

…



7:  Geography

Evening’s out of stripes
The fatal breath of danger
Left our soil another color
She sends for perfume
From the schooner in the isles
The empty dish holds his cufflinks,
Matches, pebbles, coins,
His drawings of birds
Thirteen crusts that winter
We never did see no pies

…

8: Prophecy

Rolling around the laws of motion, it was just a potato on the floor. This way they caught a few winks between courses by the fire. Picture a snowstorm just beginning and the air full of doubt. One’s only son is walking to report on the measured fall. Tomorrow won’t be as cold or long but that is not what matters. He’s lost his gloves and his pockets are full. She said bring salt for the soup. She’s always saying things he wishes he could hear but with the rolling of the planets it’s hard to know what’s next. He leaves a trail of his treasure, hopes they find him before dark.




Susan Gangel writes and paints in San Francisco, and collaborates with the poet Kit Kennedy and the artist Terry Turrentine on vispo, fine artist books, and various performance projects. Particle Theory is her evolving response to pandemia in 2020-2021.

 
 

previous page     contents     next page