VI. Dreadful Contact
I know the rest of the night will be as devoted to work as love as I’m now resting in this expensive
sentence and in the end I’ll spend it fast writing to you anyway, addressing you and a solution or
night beginning like a letter, just a few words more freely seeing everything more clearly than the
rest of life and love tends to be like windows facing mostly south but surrounding us, I’m thinking
I LOOK AT YOU AND FEEL TOPLESS,
like a burn victim or a mermaid.
I write decay, decay, decay so I can
look at it and change my life.
Describe a morning you woke up without fear.
I wake up on the cold of J’s floor. I have been thinking about you His house is red and pouring
with gaps that let full threads / The sun / exhalation / A boundary of ours in. I call my limbs raw
nurses. I call them cruel thuds. I have been passed by weather drowning a socket a clearing
His house is set back from the road. It’s in a recess / a pause / it’s so red / it’s burning / during
the while. I have been c i r c u l a t i n g a socket a clearing I wake up on the cold of J’s floor
without shrinking one hundred velvet spikes. I have been thinking about writing to you in this
way How does the imperceptible element / an intercapillary patience / veilpiss / salt lovers
become the site of species intensity? Frames open and / invention sends. / Frames open and /
affiliation / or all ash facing up / approaches / from an unstable distance.
Light coming through stone
is an extraordinary event.
What if resistance floats immediately?
Without shrinking, I wake up describing.
Without shrinking, I wake up salt lovers
/ pink lightning
/ underwater bees.
Without shrinking, I wake up this container of hearts and stomachs.
Without shrinking, I wake up water / a dangerous cut loosed below.
Without shrinking, I wake up bulging jewels / or subsumed by my limbs.
Without shrinking, I wake up writing to you.
I am here. / I wrote it out again,
the intimately expanding memory,
the healing map swallowing a dead wood providing, from scratch.
Where did it go? How embarrassed am I by how I change? / By what?
The recess / the pause / the secret donor entrance. I thought for a moment I would never stop growing I
put on J’s sweater and go outside to smoke one of his cigarettes while he keeps sleeping or puts
welts of bread in a skillet. The sweater has diamond shapes and shedwater on it. Shades of /
orange and green / or yellow that aren’t dull / but neglected. J’s house is so red / it’s burning /
during the while. My unconditional presence in and around it There are headstones pressed into
the sides of it. Headstones, headdresses, I say to myself, dragging. I feel warm I have lifted it by
my pleasure I touch the text / the seed / the marbles / the shift braided into the rock / into the
animal rock / and think of how we (C and J) are in love with people (N and H) that are not us. I
think of how we know it because we are still reading to each other. It’s not private / It can’t be
regulated I think of how we know it because J asked me at the bar the night before. If I am in
love with N. Yes, I said. Yes and regenerating flowers suddenly blew up into
the vital arrangement of admission.
IT WAS SO HOT /
AND IT WAS SO
-What if writing down a name
-is a form of word choice / my unconditional presence
–in and around it?
-To makea choice / my unconditional presence
–in and around it / To make a threshold I squat into /
-A contorted relaxation /
-is to followthe surrounding vibrational
-as it creates / destroys / PILES on /
-as it atmospheres an unravelling.
-To write down your name and to follow it
-with Yes, is to think
-for a moment that I will never stop
I woke up on the cold of J’s floor and there was a text
message from N / WHERE R U? WHY AREN’T U
It’s hard for me to speak so plainly about the body
/ my friend
/ I have sex with my friends /
I still search for a wild god / J comes outside to join me /
to join me We are talking when he / reaches over
/ to gather up my hair
/ to pull my hair to the top of my hair
/ to reveal my neck.
This vital arrangement
/ This vital safety
my friend holds there
with his edible body
/ fastened grain
IT WAS SO HOT /
AND IT WAS SO
Without shrinking, I say, What is a choke hold?
Without shrinking, I say, What is a chose hold?
Without shrinking, I say, I see a double kingdom choose over my mouth / the ground.
Without shrinking, I say, The ground is an earth candle.
Without shrinking, I say, It’s an earth candle with dog necks / slanted into it.
Without shrinking, I say, Dog necks that ate at each other.
I try to rest at points. I go outside, and I try to put it on the ground. I try to put my devastation on
the ground. I try to put it on the ground and pay it. My devastation, I pay it.
Does rubbing have any ends?
What is a corridor of peaks and does it dangle inside me like snow?
What is the difference between chaos and territory?
I am touching clay and connecting it to the work to be.
Which flower do you gravitate towards?
“I threw away my shoes looking
for you on the throat
of a flower”
This is from a poem I sent you,
but I don’t know who wrote it.
Why do you think they did it?
“And I live in the vague
terror you will call and offer me a summer song and a coffee.”
Why do we offer ourselves?
Where is rareness?
Do you remember the New Year’s I wrote to you
and said, I left someone. I did. I did. I did. How could I? Am I full /
Am I full of nothingness / Heavily so?
Do you remember when we stood outside
/ and my hair was disturbed
by the healing event / The sun / exhalation / A boundary of ours?
I understand waking up / Here is the slaughter of sequence / a floral /
they can always be reshaped and sometimes
that is so IT for me.
Inexperienced change makes me
/ Inexperienced change
MAKES ME LAUGH / MAKES ME SWOLLEN
DOES IT YOU?
From The Garden of The Blue F.U. Dogs:
I started reading Bluets tonight. I’m 1⁄4 done already and it’s late
but I feel the need to finish it now. I was starting to feel the full
weight of the book when Kelin texted me that she loves me, was
reading umbrella essay, and hoped I was in a good moment. Or
“on the verge.” Then I separated all of Abby’s letters from my
other letters, tied them in a bundle, and stood there not knowing
what to do with them. Why should I be telling you? It sounds
like I’m hung up. I’m not. But Bluets loosed something. I see
what you mean. I am listening to Molina by the green horse.
When I sat down to the letters I found this postcard and knew
to write you. Maybe, selfishly, to salvage something of myself.
It’s true it was a hard time I come through / But I’m still
thankful for the blues.
WHAT R U / WHERE R U
SHACKED FLESH / RECKLESSLY
SLOW / ON MY HUMAN SKIN?
Work lay / work was in a spreadable wire
And positioned above it was a word /
How do I moor
Why would I?
Work lay / work was secured by material
that could be crushed beneath a body /
folded gently and precariously
just from the weight of itself.
How do I several
/ scary light
WHEN I LOOK AT YOU, I BLANK OUT
CARRIE LORIG is the author of the chapbook NODS. (Magic Helicopter Press) and several collaborative chapbooks, including Labor Day (Forklift Books) with Nick Sturm and rootpoems (Radioactive Moat) with Russ Woods. A full length book, The Pulp vs. The Throne (Artifice Books), will be out in 2015.