Another South: Experimental Writing in the South

Camille Martin

Camille Martin learning to talk over and over I have fulfilled my purpose but it’s not you who say so on roads never transparent it not necessarily being things that happen the idea of all kinds of rescues not halfway open and now’s a good time the sidewalk stained blue from fallen flowers a cardplayer’s world how simple it is, telling not telling can we ever be one or the other unless we stop knowing something complexities rubbed thin in fluid history the sun leaves traces of tunes its form is apparent and dissolvable a solvent method and so the possibility of the body in odd ways packs everything into a scene finishing opens new spaces for the time being is getting crowded to abcs and from rimbaud cold in the house not as if oblivion deceptive arteries as exaggerated desire erasure of support, compass swelling and backhandled toward the mind a ghost killed in passing to resurface at eye level death not replaced, but relived a fleeting swarm of magic (ô saisons, ô châteaux!) telltales on many paper signing themselves to be born as ever for the best to touch days of speech thinking something “up” a displaced look screening great detail at the roots this business of taut exchange above trouble talk of the body, or layers, becoming sometimes only one line in the substance of unstopped presence of traffic that seems equally natural, delectable wolverines sighted in the heavy core of a stagnant morning something left to chalk it up to resilience not a questionable dodge when you come forth commingling flesh the air’s most thick off the beat fewer names or smaller but they join unsuspected into seances of the ordinary don’t change one word you won’t be able to surface but there’s something that knows the illusion will take care of that, too projects self through stereotype remonstrates the capacity of shelves to hold green hills 134 Camille Martin ground producing mourning between the rows talk reflects a supplement at the outset brilliant stinginess or subsistence of puritan water a bitter dash, subdual lottery forgetting the time it takes a convergence of hermits stunned and mesmerized before flummoxed breeze it happens in these castles in which to picture a kind of dancing on spirals every view a place this meaning this or else something gizmo junction measure by measure given away don’t mind being under the world gusty thoughts feeding miraculous icons the words do not escape without us mongrel coffin taking the place of certain descriptions changes a landscape although borders and crisscrosses sign allegiance grow and diversify until nothing is left while everywhere shuttles a guise altogether, the empty parts clamber for hunger within seasons of fields of loved weeds the truth a hopeful judgment as i commence to do as if it’s ok to surround the dark with things voluntarily remembered a non-cessation of trees and flat land producing a mind jags world lines in a red throng of partial distant children transfer plural code aimed life in these pockets of air unabridged misty tempo of plastic process restless of transmitted flight Another South 135 from no truck pseudo slammer here, a botched cozy live-in. hankering, i “cause” a delay in the system start-up. poised with an empty pistol in latent space. more or less fain, error’s habitual day parade inaugurates a fuzzy death. funny,bursting the dove’s eye,& lifers balk at the riddle of breakage. what was i thinking, trying to blow the cover off now. a surge of instrumentality comes all grammatical & sexless in waves of declension & honeytones. insidious. thusness can’t get the letters off the fickle brain for obsessive time rattling the bars of an emotion you could really starve your way into. a photograph of melting snow, for example. mawkish me is this where we unhook the brief self, into a denatured light. the situation is aggressively democratic, spooling toward one or twenty-seven billion say-so’s & aspiring to the implied soul of happy hours spent in beautiful surroundings soft as a fogged sentence, a succession of facts peering into the memorial rubric of selfknowledge . i’m making an effort here, fast approaching a superficial encounter, something to merge into, guided by a clattering homunculous running on amorphous fuel toward ultimately iterable caravanserai that keep vanishing into a distance. linkage adrift...