Pleiades: Literature in Context

Every night I build the little housewith its faulty architectureswalls fail to meet in cornersshadows cast in the wrong directionA needle pulled through canvasfeels like certainty and thoughI've invited it just so the originof the shine is never whereI thought it would be

I startle a series of false morningswedge of light an idea that keepsprying me up, no light but the faintblue dust of our boys' breathcarrying them across a salt plain

Interiors: eventide / thicket / corridor / arch /antechamber / undercroft / copse / spandrel

Light sources: salt / lichen / capiz / wax / breath /peony / fish skin / eggshell / ice

The first time I masturbated I was sleepingon a bottom bunk with a nun in the top bunkfour days into a silent retreat the bedwas silent it snowed all nighta small window framed a few flakesso too the seconds feathered past [End Page 214]

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Have you ever woken up in a recovery roomtangibly gray as both a little birth and deathin the middle of your life?

Have you ever followed all the directionsused every last junket and hinge but the partsadded up to no sweeter whole?

Have you ever wandered into a field of wheaton the side of the road inside your mindfollowing a light so thin you could runyour hands through its nets?

I'm trying new curtains as if the meaningof the thing is more verb than nounHow to drape a certain immersion of greenfrom ceiling to floor an accidental vestibuleI step into where something has just happenedor is about to take place

Interiors: mezzanine / undertow / confessional /byway / darkroom / diorama / linen chute

Light sources: driftwood / alabaster / hair / puddle /feather / amber / birch / honey / tooth

I dreamed of this exact place without knowing itan old jacket draped over a chaireverything bleached watermarked [End Page 215] as though left in the rain then wrung outA boy chases a cricket into a tipped drumis the game of hide-and-seek I dreamedthe heart of the cricket beating insidethe drum sounding my call and the longround walls of our meeting

When we finally spoke it was too much noiseand gladly we came to the fire before the sunrose and gladly we stood up and left the theaterof the day [End Page 216]