After Rilke I Try to Change into Laurel

And so here again talking in veils, as if this were the only thing permitted, struggle as I do to say “pineapple” (do you see how the daily already slips away?) “coffee”, “yard” (again). Do you see how the day is interrupted by its facts, displayed like merchandise in this era, stapled to the sky in others?

despite thrashing about, wrestling with the quilts, having to talk in quilts, having to let these fall over me, having to talk sideways, or in stars, masked, not among you

we get brief glimpses of the sky perhaps, certainly we can follow logics’ path to imagine it must be something we all share, a common business in veils and touch, but I say it falls again, there is no shore, at best a hem

her skirt, perhaps a wedding gown (or a flag, that falls over us, July fourth, a girl of ten with her younger sister, disappearing under it, circa Robert Frank)

****

solution = quilts and veils again, as explanation for what to do with desire with voice

equal sign as knot (nautical), perhaps a means of measuring the sea, a parse like moons

or bites—I believe in facts, but their relationship to us is less clear; we repair the daily according to one strategy, whispering, “gentian”, “cord”, “pineapple” (but already our grip is slipping)—day interrupted by facts, displayed like merchandise in this era, stapled to the sky in another (Hegelian) waltz

even this can become a tent in the open, since surely shared, we both swathed in yards of silk, Draupadi, who cannot be disrobed, veiled face who makes a real sign

covered in marigold dye at Holi or a drone, are we equally ever//there’s no shore, though there appear to be hems

her skirt, perhaps a wedding gown (or a flag, that falls over us, July fourth, a girl of ten with her younger sister, disappearing under it, circa Robert Frank)

sea, why do you seem to leave me on the shore? since my desire must be said, would woo, I will always be drawn further into your waves

***

and the boys called her “silence,” or spouse if they wanted

to imagine fucking her

as a way to remain unwilling

and apart

****

boy-self that speaking unsays

no wonder you imagine language a virus

or consider it bounded (oh Saussure, oh chiefs

trading women, oh sign we are stained by

that already leaks) your skin

****

skin mottled by the moon

the way she drove or looked out a window

we are just able to endure

being so different

****

because if its silence

because if its mind (listen)

we can displace these stains

write them on walls

GET THEM OFF US

****

just grammatically feminine (a little torture of

the facts) means we can identify

are not abject between

sea and sky (two firmaments

****

the way the I-Ching puts it, equal to sky and earth

and between them, and linking,

a foot and this supplemental dream

****

too too masculine subjects worn tight-wired

De-Kooning girl-phase—she slips birch white

out of the owl’s fright—image of shame,

anemone arm too ever flung to return

why do you say these things about my sisters?

****

we can perhaps marry what we already wear

this means many fences and scenes behind

the billboard arras, and seeming difficult, and

putting ourselves aside, the way dogs

are animals, so naturally

****

stained fright I am spotted by, mall

touch my mother had to whisper

along with stars, and the sun

Emily cut from paper,

to tell truth,

her inevitable love

despite hate

****