July 18, 2007

excerpt from Bitter Lemons

Language fixes summer air to my page and I am a girl aflush. Language fixes intelligibility to this girl and her skin aflush. Intelligibility is a fixture of civilisation. In some old echoing ruins intelligibility rigidly sleeps.
The steeple of language is opposite this girl despite itself.
On a summer evening the even summer canters over the ruins.
The horses of language are intelligible and wary.
The steeple of language dotes on this girl despite itself.

Factual radios deploy me for pleasurable Greek parties.
The proceedings of air converge on green
leaves in unexpected water droplets
before I depart from the pleasure of Greek.
Language presupposes this factual radio deploying me.
Language conjures the horses of intelligible steeples before myself.


Even in a geometry of the breast
the poem makes sense.
Initially red
vagaries echo dormantly
then a sharp heart beat as a hand
is distinguished.
This hand happens
indifferent to sweet pastures
where intelligibility conceals.
Whenever this happens
is a way of ruining us.
When this doesn’t happen, we are
already ruined.


—Angela Carr

Posted by dwaber at July 18, 2007 10:53 AM