Manifesto: Perception/Distance
Ensemble
of feeling when one is
within
thinking / perception
of a wheel
a grey rose
coming from someone
else's machine
or
the fear that thought feeling has of its
counterpart
and on the screen
institutions
with colored flags
and eviscerating melodies /
looking to see where the collective will go
bright peach
enumerated under ruby rings
that hold up
the sky's brightest tunnel
the alphabet of groundedness
escaping into the glasses that sit waiting to be washed
the radio and the songs we sing
of casting off into new epics
they're not really about anything
but there's a love story embedded in them
the library guarded by lions
holds up the edifice of the building
where seals learn to dance with balloons
and gravity is more than a concept
Various ensembles of gravities / the pictures we have
of the world are made of its light
the weightless wash
that time
blinks out into
the clock making its vicissitudes
of modernity into
the dance of feathered metonyms
which is subtended by the now open door
thrown wide open at the end of the handles
the geography of the country out of maps
in which we insert mirrors
getting a better feel for the people for the trees for
languages /
where the light is
before blue the adjectival television
telling the news
Ensemble of the painter at the door
making his philosophy of sex
into something unrecognizable
taking out the gem clips from books
taking out the pearl clip from his lover's red hair
Ensemble of the obvious
shattering of the rhizomatic mouse
hiding in modesty
hissing in the back of the dark woods
and somewhere there's another poem about this or am I just remembering wrong
the phenomenological dusk
in the architect's Book One
of lemons
and open prairies
and Coke bottles
receding stats
and military strategies
of sky
with its stones
and bright non-exist
"feathered out of the sky now"
Ensemble
of the distinctions between felt thought and thought feelings / maybe it's at the soul of the
film
the vast affinities
we create for ourselves
high-resolution hotels
the pinpricks in the tintype
mediate the oblique stories of the buildings we
love as we love our lives
Ensemble of the body in its pain / and how can one know what another feels?
the elsewhere in the kitchen
takes his coffee
for reconstruction, makes sutures
from a quiet fire
and
still...
Laura Carter is a writer and teacher living in Atlanta. Recent work is forthcoming in Hambone.
Ensemble
of feeling when one is
within
thinking / perception
of a wheel
a grey rose
coming from someone
else's machine
or
the fear that thought feeling has of its
counterpart
and on the screen
institutions
with colored flags
and eviscerating melodies /
looking to see where the collective will go
bright peach
enumerated under ruby rings
that hold up
the sky's brightest tunnel
the alphabet of groundedness
escaping into the glasses that sit waiting to be washed
the radio and the songs we sing
of casting off into new epics
they're not really about anything
but there's a love story embedded in them
the library guarded by lions
holds up the edifice of the building
where seals learn to dance with balloons
and gravity is more than a concept
Various ensembles of gravities / the pictures we have
of the world are made of its light
the weightless wash
that time
blinks out into
the clock making its vicissitudes
of modernity into
the dance of feathered metonyms
which is subtended by the now open door
thrown wide open at the end of the handles
the geography of the country out of maps
in which we insert mirrors
getting a better feel for the people for the trees for
languages /
where the light is
before blue the adjectival television
telling the news
Ensemble of the painter at the door
making his philosophy of sex
into something unrecognizable
taking out the gem clips from books
taking out the pearl clip from his lover's red hair
Ensemble of the obvious
shattering of the rhizomatic mouse
hiding in modesty
hissing in the back of the dark woods
and somewhere there's another poem about this or am I just remembering wrong
the phenomenological dusk
in the architect's Book One
of lemons
and open prairies
and Coke bottles
receding stats
and military strategies
of sky
with its stones
and bright non-exist
"feathered out of the sky now"
Ensemble
of the distinctions between felt thought and thought feelings / maybe it's at the soul of the
film
the vast affinities
we create for ourselves
high-resolution hotels
the pinpricks in the tintype
mediate the oblique stories of the buildings we
love as we love our lives
Ensemble of the body in its pain / and how can one know what another feels?
the elsewhere in the kitchen
takes his coffee
for reconstruction, makes sutures
from a quiet fire
and
still...
Laura Carter is a writer and teacher living in Atlanta. Recent work is forthcoming in Hambone.
