Cover
Contents
ONE
Who on Earth
Struck a chime of delta clay
This alien salt
A little heap of salt
And sleep inside inside
Naked to you
When a weathervane spins at a constant speed
TWO
What if I open this?
What if he loves what’s “perfect,”
Place in which nothingness
Supplice of desiring
She tells him one night of her long dead sister
Temple of Discontinuity . . .
Hurt but to heal, to cool—what heat,
THREE
Vacuum tubes from old tvs:
—that she can hold his head
The other shore
Hurt but what one asked to feel,
Raking lace
Wax seal and watermark
Open your mouth, he will see
FOUR
And yet what Earth was this not quite
And when will you be here?
A man built a watch.
Thousand white suns sands
Harbor hidden in the heat
On a still day, on a fallow hill
One x1000 ends to one
FIVE
A man came down from the mountain
How near now to asymptote zero
He took the book
Needles and snow fall behind
Out the cabin window,
Walking over particles
She flips from mock-irenic to
SIX
She took him to her gallery.
Drunk on liquid capital, skipping,
Listening yes,
Video art or an ad
Away from the violently quieted
Vulturine zeitgeist
The mask’s eyes:
SEVEN
Because there was—
A neural fire becomes
Where are we at the edge
A bed in a windowless room.
House on a seaport road. And that
Ship of December
American rain and French lace.