On the Sea Speech
This
long line I am in is drawn from the motion of others. It makes us
bend in together like next/nest. Draws us out like tubes. I
sense the displacement of others bodies in scenes upon this water,
where
squares of yellowy grass lie, where dimly we seek and seek. I wag the
sea for something. The porpoise. It is so fucking grey. There's
H.D.'s letters in neat squares on the glass horizon. This sense
of suffering way out on the water, in Paris and on the countryside.
Mossy borders, our clothes and hats, the little strips
of birds peeling away from the schoolyard. I am trying to give as much
as I take in a sense. Diagonal, I, when up to my head in yellow grass
today. When on a board on the sea. Sound of screaming in your ear, huh.
My face's feeling when you were backwards, so young and white, it was
like moving across a board on the sea. Dots and dots and dots of birds
on your back.
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