Randee Silv


Four Wordslabs

Clamps: She stared at a wooden plank and trembled when it trembled. She moved over only with reluctance. The whys, the whats never given. Ascending latitudes absorbably gnarly. Monotone narrations loom. A piling of piles. The squirming of squirms. Encased in spellbound stupor there’s this replaying of dormant rhymes. Archless nooks with miscued circuitries leave no leeway. Outshouting. Overshouting. I, like others, devour exhales strikingly laughable from inflatable dustbins. Dicey. Crafty. Sinkable. Not at all substantial. Enclosures: I sat down on a chair without an “X”. Rewrites stricken from pebbled idling laid on thick. They’re not paying attention. Nuances tip consumption toward luring red hot embers. Perfumed stoppages should’ve crumbled into gullies & moats by now. But. But. But. Piercing grips mold jeweled editions glued to PR hypes. Episodes of consequences from tableau to solitude. Vicinities only rumored. Transparent. Entireties disappear. Roadmaps exceed microscopic certainties. Synchronize. Pool. Amplify. Condors will return to the Northwest. Forfeits: Threading tales. Some master it better than others. Some misuse haikus. Some fluff accounts. Some withdrawals are washed and mashed and tumbled dry. Anger can be amusing. Comments brief. Maybe that’s better. He drops a white orchid. Disallowing inclusion does make you wonder. I reminded him that his recipe did lack salt. Arms swung. We swam toward a sculpted cellophane cube perched on a sand bar. It was titled “Pointless”. But if it’s pointless, why is he still insisting on making the point? The winter thaw continues downstream. “Escapades” slipped from my tongue. Voicings emerged without introducing themselves. I listened as close as I could. Fairly broad, slightly irregular, not afar, not near, neither murky nor dim. It made no difference. There was agreement and antagonizing and dispatching. It was hard to decide if it was the a.m. light. I almost descended on a moth’s wing. ON>or=OFF: Economics. No. Revolution. Yes. He. And he. Neither would alter. Fewer tickets for pubic urination have been reported. I skipped the question about incidents of theft or blackmail. Depending on sources and sizes for packaged disasters it’s almost impossible to decide what to decide. Separating from recent past is no easy feat. They were convinced they could decipher his inklings and clues. He was sitting in the front row but was never asked. She kept losing her balance while trying to find her keys. He had already spelled out how she twisted the bitterness of regret. He told her if you can’t see what’s bucking into you, disengage. Disentangle. She told him that whichever way was not the way. Continuous continuations are like feeding the birds.

Randee Silv’s wordslabs have appeared in Word For/Word, Posit, illiterature, Bone Bouquet, Otoliths, Datura, Urban Graffiti, among others, and in her chapbook Farnessity (dancing girl press). She’s the editor of the literary journal swifts & slows: a quarterly of crisscrossings. Silv’s latest collection of wordslabs, Nextness, from which the above pieces are taken, is now out from Arteidolia Press.

 
 

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