to 5

    on the 5ives





   casting back return a void
   upon particular lines of word

  castings beck how
& squirmed thru vigorous scribbles

    and null
     deep space.
  Turn the page
    maybe full.

 If there's any "Verse" here, it needs to be marked <vex>
  in the doggerel tradition; deprecatory puns on verse
   always claim to go from bad to worse;
  but Now we make new DocCode pacts
     individuating "verse extracts";

   Plausible (is it) still to talk about
   persistent saffron smell in a jar labeled poetry
   or myrrh in my pocket?
   —O pocks, or pox, of the detail
   saffron-colored room with skyblue far,
   deep-talki essence of book-star?
  These facts of turning and re-turning: fold and X.

   Ebb and show
   Knife and knot
   Deictic dot

  in the dim drawn day to which I woke

   a half-worm, lucent pink in grey
   stoppen in its track
     sidling juice: vers
     o    worm    towards    verse

 Turn the page.
 A verso puts one page
 upon the next
 thickening the compost of the text

    pages laid layer upon layer
    doubling each other like rachel and leah.


   Run them thru the X- - - x

   done over & over x upon x
      the pages would drink in
      black ink jet forces or heat-dark

of the over-full cartridge's


everything spurts by entrance and overlap

a plague of logos black on black

thru perfect clarity into perfect opacity

strewing the



 pli upon pli    he said    brightness
 plea upon plea
      and no one owns it

     a procedure

      to produce  from "moving masses whose shape
          is unnameable"

 some pile, some profile

       a reminder of intricacy cross these works

      that speaks in (and for) the convergence of quirks

    while increasing the size of the background.


       I open my little book
       its pages are all white.

        All right.

     I haven't apparently written anything there yet.


"I'm so not running down that road again"

         I'm a complete stranger here
But You Are  in this other language

 and You Did
and You wander
roving, reversing, even revering
"the cold streets
of the revenants"
   snot wipes, a shimmer of silver
    on the already
      cakey wristlet

Rusted stalled machinery
 junked cars loaded with optionals
  what's to know? the status quo

"starry lake of sky
 with glowing arch of brilliance called itself it
(or whatever)"

Everything is thrown away and said impossible
and It's all still here    Diaspora and destruction
     passed by down the road
     passed down from road to road

    a ripped map in front of where I was.

     I saw Headlines readers
      might tear off their Newspapers
 and paste them on the blank page
      as a Method                "slice of truth"
       in pre-packed words
   thin description it might be called,
       shouldn't we embrace it?

 "It was easier     I saw flickers
  in Nam     of lost substance
  to keep yr buddies     just like the odd word
              to the side
 'flat characters'"         and lurch out here

   For the little phrase
   half phatic, half erased
   the obverse
   that no one knows was said
   piping thru the dizzy channels
   of the night

   yet opens. Yes! it opens!

 Lucky, that.

     For people probably         can't be counted on

   simply to

     "describe most thickly
        what matters most to them"

  but let it leak

    when you and they

      look away



     it can be found

    at the turn of turning.

    Does verso have and-yet another side
    Not recto? The verso of verso.
    Turns to where? Can it be read?
    Is it here?

    So even the loss is not "lost"?
     can I agree? And
      day of travers?
    typical, am also skeptical
     I might mean "No."
    Is it lost, or not?
    Represented, or not?
    In words, or without?
    Present? And how?

    Didn't I once say the reverse?

    Have I mentioned all this as an argument for verse?

    Drift she sd
       between the no and yes

        derive (Fr.), derive (Eng.) draft
         take your chances up front
         it's nothing to be smug about
        for one second you didn't
         watch where you were going
        and look what you got.

    Au vers!

      Need someone?
        a pronominal volunteer

      who "translates"      of

 arcs    stars    "stones"    wrecks    acts    strings    notes    dots

   with a tetra-letter kit? and
       cascade of genitives

     what cannot be named but
       on unprimed canvas
    like a comet
 the text repeating bird-like
    "come it"
    aroused and ready-wet

  Y  and   N  and  R  and  X

 A million words all stet
"I weep for you in all the letters of the alphabet"
 a set of plants (some birds, some voles, etc.)
 song of songs, little scraps


       in the tunnels

       of dust.

     Which is why

 every person has "their" shadow,
   why the ghost poem behind this ghost poem
 has its existence,
  and why the dog's nose, the bat's map, the bird's zone
turn like a page
 and underneaths come up

  shadow things inside behind the said
 not light-space-time in the abstract (as the universe)
  the original awkward as its translation

the weave of a brown deco throw exactly the same on top and reverse

"overnourishing signs"           in particular "overnourishing signs"





       o this   o that



Hence "She started naming things, places
 as she filled them up."

What a work!

And in a parallel way
 as she emptied them.





draft 35: verso