Seems like putting a poem here would keep it from being something somewhere else.
If you write anything but a poem you’ll come up with a story about being near Death or having blacked out and then woken up by someone.
All I had to do was cut it up with some purpose and add some line breaks, which is just what I did after I left class.
So Julia made something about the corner void and I said yes, I think so. It’s a lot like the hole that Bobby Vandivender punched in the ceiling that had a ladder inside it.
The universe at large is space on the page, one page over.
The body is reality.
The body give you postures.
Gender gives you postures.
Reading and writing: technology of the brain. Words resonate: opening up something for us.
Tip of an eye/ salivating/ thoughts/ repeat/ memory.
Where the mouths are loops of memory . . . sorrow.
I said, I really loved your reading. It was so, like, I don’t know. You said something about a mouth and a hole. And then she said, oh, there’s that Beckett. I said, yes, “Not I.”
(notes from Nicole Brossard reading)
The universe is shaped like space. I lose my hat and fall out of bed.