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Three Poems

Arielle Guy

Geogaophy


         –house, measured dark–


Tourniquet a bulb.
                      Orchis.
                          Petria,

              best way to die of grief and reappear.

My eye in high winter
one hphon, delicate llid.

Hesisation. “When do I get out?” tarnillia asks.

Letters, numbers, script we read
changed symbols.

Pakebci, ose
theere light in the orthouse, flesh in the whell.

Trhe way disaster strikes. of feather:

dhattaered clavicle,houseing heart.

-unleashed on the siuspected : pwettern of oil in brouth.

built, tent, shoes, binoculars---rope---clock, water-resistant
tarp, blue openings ---

giant ant.                                                        Posterboard to color on’

blue-orange root on the map.

foretold this, the piece of sun we walk in
            north 5 paces. Left or right ;

formaldehyde-seeming. Once interest in panthers, broken alligator ribs,

              tarantulas: natural creatures in unnatural environment, hazy with being.

bring-floats have boat-flats

            shadowing through mist on Oneyen fc River. Bring me the boatt,

tired and full of wonder, sailer say.

Wherebone ribbing language stays

            peculiar states: Pandora,

truth serum for boaters, tunic for realists,
            wading up our heels. Anemojens

beautiful, strained, soft-opening. In stars and stars and stars,

broken white in the moon sidewalks of Cornia
longitude a fight between us in weed-hoar light.

Promise the devil this—supper at six, fortune at five, sleep at seven. Count hours
between bread and breath
forty-five. numeral or number, gauge on the map :
antique post, totem pole. Faces from the dead, where words come:
‘promie me. promise me, u yaban.’

Tetyxt on the bottom of the plate we turned over, cleared gently with a small
brush, say;

forcumference, play ladness. we are, as of five oclock, free. No tether or stake to dance on. hurtle forward into new worlds, effect not known for centuries. Tswelling in my hips due north, a new breeding, soft open new world Aastoria;
(circled on the map)

            new jersey, Hudson river—east and north of the city, gray wine.

underground eeries of whorls, wholecities, seeds :

oceans i plummeted across toward a hole in the earth --- reached a city

              called gooteberg.        Mflesh revealed flamespine of

Central; Station, where we waited for the #7 bus to cvxiygatan.




Incline


                       our Strategy, removable Sound


     “weakned by incline:

day begn as “We” heard

                       “r:amshackle!”, fist and crow     blew side to side

sail,                                              dark inside weights of wind

loosned Number

“we” found on the hull     but it was     surge, fastned onto bulkhead,

Southwardfacing wnds, beard-

ice     made us into caverns, swoon whips atop floating.

                       Boat, we hold perishables in the cold

mad submissive; perfumed heads reentering worlds

of toward and probables, plaster and gesture falling

towards the idle spoke

     Grand hop     concealing  its virgin.

No vertigo no sample no hordes no throngs no throg
no plow no disaster no chance

     me, hear someone go plunk

late promise                                              empty except for all

the water.                                              we’ll disclose possible view of

one window lying justified at our feet,                                  barely touching “our” heads.




Telemetry


        –the book of Tarot cards opens–


Cool top blown by Duncing

laughing, kind and broken open by streamerrs……………….

couched in the hallucinatory feel of a second adoles.

Truth is: “I have found my opening, and I am going to take it—”   Hannah say.

Ankles grab dark,
bloom: dovetail in a ball of whos,
knowing sweet, little pieces mean something.

Ownership of shoes. Hanging boatflats, half-mast, sweet ships, turning.

Then it finds. Melody from a café on the Square near Kungsgatan, crossed twice to find
milk. Once, wine. Another, rice.

Stronghold the heart in a paper bag, bound with string and string and string:
disparate trees, more similar than apparent, tightened around water like a neck. Wool and
quiet, beautiful cold surrounds autumn like an army of loveliness

moving back and forth in light. Goöteberg
spires against sky, bone and crowngilled, enchanted from behind

spooling feathers of optimism in falling beams—
        bywaters, canals. Spring

reaches position, orbits light and dark
        on the head of a pin

in and out of sleep. Hung over the bed’s edge, dizzy, we become something else,
different than we divined, bodies in summer sheets with hope

found, stabilizing into gas, the physics of an umbrella charged with rain
in another place, at home

windows, cards, shoes divinations:
        all suits coming forward out of gloom, into weather