Two Poems

Stephanie Gray

Earthshine Phonographic Alphabet
Entertaining reading in shorthand. In nearly every number there are one or more. We desire to call your attention. To help you more fully understand what you see. As double stars revolve, one may eclipse the other. A new scent which we think you may not know. A large initial hook adds to k. Thumb through it at odd moments. The letters fly all over the place. A small final hook adds to any. I must say we ought to do something. A close look at our nearby moon. I am sorry to say you may as well give it up. Moving along in their orbits. Electronic language. The polarity of psychic motion and the levels of psyche are the keys for opening. Drill after you with books closed. Cannot be seen when it’s in the sky. Colorful sunburst in the software. Earthshine. It’s kind of like jeans, it all depends on the label. The element includes the interface. Word structures the movement. I mean the thought-feeling. If distance alone lends enchantment. Emerging revelations of mind. When the stapes freeze tight. When children see lines of computer code. The spectrum is crossed by thousands of dark lines. Why computers create fear for adults. Cliques of all sorts begin to form. Nothing else can arouse feelings of wonder. A certain kind of exuberance bordering on grotesque. Today is payday and her little office is jammed. The majority study the heavens out of sheer. The forms of have. QWERTY. The rest are probably present also. High above the horizon may cause a stiff. Rather an innocuous neutral term. Line of thought from the previous. The thrill of knowing the planets. It is no longer free. Giving a head start in the computer revolution. Turn the human spirit. I want this one to be pixel perfect. Between the tail are barely visible star clusters. The more the wonder. Words from unseen lips. Language no longer has a relationship to silence. Space is almost empty. The shifting glow of the aurora is essentially electrical and similar to the light from the neon signs along Main Street. They have to begin by finding their names. Obliterating as deep snow in the country. Then and after that. Repetition drills for pitch and stress. Create your own feature. Let me present the fear of damage. You must find the right rocketship. To make the thing quite another. Lighted learning in the darkness. This is a necessary aspect of living of getting on in the world. You must understand our mood today, if you would understand why we are in the streets. They impose on it a high tempo. At whatever cost to dreams. The more obscure sources that might have been. Eavesdropping underwater. This is for all the deadheads here. You think it has all been said. Not playing it by ear. See in the dark. To remember who I was. Sounds that noone can hear.
So    called    ultrasonic
“What’s one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?”
“I don’t know,” said Alice, “I lost count.”
“She can’t do addition.” the Red Queen interrupted.

If I saw with my ears and heard my way through the night, what would I hear? She was saying you were saying that saying it goes without saying. Often it has nothing to do. I may be a disinterested worker. It lay in everyone’s grasp yet no one found it. Low frequency sounds have long wavelengths and are too coarse. The strike is a form of demonstration. Uncommunicative from North Dakota. Of the so-called hard core. Loses that infinity of mind. How does the computer know what I’m thinking? Not even the most deeply committed can pretend the immediate. The remainder of consonants. Mirrored in the electronic innards. The fall of the voice. He had no alternative but to squeeze. Detect magnetic fields. Silence alone protects. It’s always written upward. We are in the streets because we are all tight inside and that tightness is compounded of manythings. Don’t get bogged down by trying to read. They have on the drawing board. After that level, there’s nowhere else to go. A certain amount of wired in knowledge. Only to the speed of light and the distance of stars. Porpoises have no vocal cords. I’m not thinking Woe Is Me. Hot on the heels of metallic. In the current voltage of resistance. The checkout clerk is doomed. You didn’t mean it, most of the time. The analog must sacrifice. A hole in the wall of my own. Dooming to live in muted. The blowhole may vibrate to make ultrasonic signals. Precisely to the degree they’re not allowed. Dynamic screens of arcade. Downward glide of pitch. Expressions of time with in. Brings things back from dissipation. Constellations seem to be in them. Because your walls were thin. Be assured you will repeat the sound. It should be turned over and the blank pages used. The shun book is written. The former book burner escapes. The psyche can find a locus. To make things appear, language must. Hints of meaning in the loose wash of noisy chaos. When your ears have been busy. If I had deep closets, it would work out, you know. Consumed with letters not written. Pictures selecting me. Old disposable cameras not disposed. Sound forms around the horseshoe. What you said you mean, wasn’t, really. There is a sheen that is missing. The hustle will make it possible. Why not do what everybody does? They think something magical is going to happen. It’s unclear whether we can make it all back. That reality is playing out. Someone else’s optimism becomes yours if you stand close enough? For a free Bible, call… Change your life parking cars in Manhattan. Kind of like a red light. If something happens to me when I’m at work drag me outside.