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C Dylan Bassett

from Against Creation

 

 

 

now is a sound

when there is none

 

an exactness without

 

a threshold

the small rain

 

turning into water

 

compelled as if by

someone to repeat

 

a legible blank

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

to live toward each other

 

in something of our &

no substance

 

made visible

 

by the wrong names

having no belongings

 

longing goes through

 

never gets

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

I came to a certain field

 

to be in its certainty

 

a gap anticipating my arrival

 

at the nexus of two

 

rivers nearly rhyming

 

an almost human note

 

with music

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

there is thunder

& there is thunder

 

nails rattle in

the ring box

 

is god the feeling I get

before falling asleep

 

a nothingness more real

 

than nothing else

 

 

 

 *

 

 

 

no name that would name

 

you correctly inaudible

 

the better to hear us with

 

the image of

 

a dream in which

 

someone is still awake

 

 

 

 *

 

 

 

what I say I say in place

 

of winter

grass grows through

 

the paper at my feet

a residue of having

 

lived & living through

 

the idea that made me

 

 

 

 *

 

 

 

if anybody

near enough to hear it

 

if a shadow falls in

 

the forest

makes the sound

 

between sense & not yet

 

reduced to chasing

 

memory or wonder

almost recognizing it

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

after the rain the sun

 

harder & farther away

 

is what keeps us hidden

 

the case for god

 

water in the bucket

 

evaporating meanwhile

 

 

 

 *

 

 

 

a preferred meaning

 

nobody is

 

what I have

 

been working to wake to

 

amid the crowd-face

 

doesn’t notice me

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

I admit the mind

an instrument unto itself

 

invents the distance

it means to cross

 

a fly climbs over

 

the mountain’s image

behind the glass

 

its wings becoming

precisely the dust

 

on which it feeds

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