“What
is beyond the book is still the book.”
- E. Jabes, ‘the book
of margins’
i.
recedes, drawing back, as
breath, the material toward, as
proffered,
as
a smoke, a
transport, curling
cochlear plume forward,
the room she
spoke, un-
spoke, its chance,
within risk, a bifold
quiet :
midmorning / mid-morning
ii.
echo, its shored weight
-less in
laid this time
of
day as
feather, light
fallen from the star the
tidal,
the out
side, the gravity
whorl of light
in particular
rooms, gestural fall
as grave, warrants us
each detail, each as
feather, this,
its prologue
iii.
it recedes, one day
the seam, from
its commentaries, as
the stars (or rather,
the photograph of
them)
no longer
appear, folded (blank,
gray)
at the window, to
earth
as light doubles into
a radiant de-
ciphering, into
the last, which also re-
sembles their
unfolding
as waves, into
the root of it, stone
of what is, of what
has
been thought by,
a totality, placed
to the pupil
the moment
before language,
each pebble
iv.
massed, bird, as window
read
by the night, will, flocked
beyond for no object,
no
judgement, but
beyond
as weight
as signature
as fall
as chance
it is rehearsal