HOUSE
Here reminds me of the world. Of sewing my life to a curtain, and a hand behind it. This reminds me of raw material, antechamber. This mudroom, entrancedevice. A shaking door for spiders, wood that has the spirit handshake. Does it lead me in or above. Can I get back from it, get out on the porch, get a good look.
It must be true what they say—that in giving myself to a built environment I've attenuated the tone of my own body. How else to explain the phosphorus spark from the cap guns of my childhood? Proper nouns drain from the world, even as new ones are installed. Snowmelt is becoming expensive. My covenants rearrange on the satin undersides.
I've got a feeling about this life, and that is that I carry the living, while the dead carry me. If they drain out I'll collapse inward toward the future, away from all borders.
Power gives the other world a distinct cherry aftertaste. Ancestormouth. What sociality do we enjoy here? What are the properties of our property, the edgeless edge? Some of us go to Denmark, others Wyoming. Who gently rips the algorithm from the center of the night? What will it take or give to let me in?
Concepts unlearn themselves. A man takes my card. We can't speak to each other except through a curtain, a gateless gate, more correctly translated as gateless barrier, here antechamberless. Or in special circumstances, after much study, a wind tower, left-handed painting. Hair against neck. We can only forgive each other through a vestibule.
The house wants me to arrive, and I arrive. Floors open up, as a form of reproduction: splenetic, like ripe squash. The highest point of the machine. Walls peel away from me in strings. Palpate for weakness, they said, touch and rub. My hands sink through a rotten spot, open a breath seam. Overheated bale. The room shoots me to its point of excess, through, out and through.
At the new curtain the house touched my cheek, the wind had no pine limit. A dusky satin: a column of air, daub and wattle palace of air. My substances did a reel, a beetle fell backwards. You've placed a screen here? Though we are with us, and I am with you, we know no yet yet. But I'm crawling to get in. I'm wild to see the room. I'm opening and opening under the arch.
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