XII: one

                       

                        No, succession / syntax,

                       

            entanglement, / its law conditions                          

 

            split in “without finished independence” /

            split the roof skies / to one

            in them sun

           

            eats the still / off windows, even volume

            cannot separate, Olson’s “no such many as

            mass, there are only / eyes in all heads, / to be

            looked out of”

                       

            that immense important hinges, / whose

            I think is wrong

 

            flues in one, effigies, ledger, what in the

            eyes, eyes / more wrong is irrelevant

 

            dustman, your eyes now, dust / incident / dust

                       

 

Still, Detritivore

 

 More is let / strayed

the

body / is

let

to animal /

months

out

/ but breathing I have

not seen

a return

of the body / obscurant

through

you / people

every

of my

place / only

over

where / by

misinterpretation /

every object has /

accident

where nothing is 

like / I

liberated off present

by /

pasts / thousand

miraged

place languages /

accent

the near you

is from.

/

Rumor yells mist

onto bodies

the areas

                        are

                        stagger

                        redrawn.

                        I throw the object

                        around /

                       

                        because I consequent

                        now to an obscure / hole

 

                        under some other first hole.

 

            Your face does not

            come apart which is

            you are in no past /

            that does not move.

 

            Nothing living happens,

            I

            artery. /

                        Indifference become

                        my reconcile /

            but

            to

            lay out

                                    the glare / with

                                    the collisions

 

where the eye            floats

off it / still

between extinct        and what

 

orders

narrow

it yourself / to’ve broke upon color

no

/

sill breathes glass or its absence is physically anything / no

intermediary

given strange

                        translates otherwise. /           

            

/

                        Happens upon you lapse / manner

 

                        this way

 

                        by which

                        distortion

            opens

            most things up /

 

            though

            the sounds of rooms are

            still

 

            gone / you       tear

            out,

            opposing same shore ill.

           

            Or stand on a freeway / a

            series of wrong equations /

 

 

            that I and my / possess / full name

            somehow /

 

landless /

but

more /

than not /

spoke no /

drained

brackets / leaned

some bray

examination

of edges

found /

to be

middles / shrill /

androgynous /

work /

look / thing

about.

 

 

Matthew Johnstone has recent writing in Word For/WordGobbetN/A, and Ohio Edit. There's a book of poems, Let's be close  Rope to mast  you, Old light (Blue & Yellow Dog, 2010), and two chapbooks: Note on Tundra (DoubleCross Press, 2015), and o n e (Inpatient Press, 2015). He co-edits 'Pider (pidermag.com), and hosts the E t A l. poetry readings in Nashville.