I’ve been reading a lot of Kristeva lately and of course it is like this: my defense system breaking a surf-thinned shell held in the pocket too long. The cracked body vs. the flack tower surrounded by a well-kept garden. But can we agree that we no longer require camouflage. We no longer require a manual. What fiction can I create toward an easy day, one in which I practice posing in a poppy-embroidered robe. Snow birds up the arm and up the back. The internal landscape is one of a moth in amber, the external landscape a woman here at the café there at the corner light now boarding a plane. It becomes easier with map-pins and motion: New York to Los Angeles. Los Angeles to Budapest. Budapest to Dubrovnik. The mind, a glass-sided thing. To mid-air become anxious that the matrix of faith has gone too long extending the sentence beyond its capacity for pulling the body across the room, through the door, outside to the panorama of sea that surrounds you. To wait for a thaw, then traversing the river to hold the model city in the manner of Saint Blaise cradling us in his limestone hands.
A FORM FOR DURATION:
I return to the low-slung roll of river and field and I want you to imagine me here under the storm-pearled sky. A hawk circles slow and then again slow. We carrion even at a distance. The river here almost stalled, placid as opposed to the river there, a major artery, industrial, not a silty shore for digging in mud with a stick, shard of china plate, blue rose and red diamond design. It is Sunday and who watches from the palisades. Who carries on as this mode of language develops response to departure. There is no reason to speak softly, I am the only one in the room. From here I see window blinds and a portion of the field so far from the gothic lines of parliament, courtyard acacia, plaster façade and constructivist architecture. What is left between us: a little fragment of petrified wood. Shell shard. A strand of syllables transmitted through the long dark.
KARLA KELSEY is author of Knowledge, Forms, the Aviary and Iteration Nets, both published by Ahsahta Press. She edits and contributes to The Constant Critic.