A N D R E W   J O R O N
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DUST OF DUSK: THE ARABESQUES

 

 

1.

Flickering licks at the lacks, then
At the locks.

          Toward––what floored––

          or what
          adored, &
          many-doored &
Windowed:

For force, a
Hollow, a
Halo, a
Hole.

Report
          apart, so
          clothes
The unbidden body, as
          dissonances
          disclose:

My flag is the

Utility of my rag, the

          shadow-totality of my flesh.

What age, what carnage
          recovers
          soil of soul, the
          nerve of never, wedged in white?

Not a note but imperative: utter silence.

Fault or
          falter, the bared device. Flat altar, ideal

Face
          before depth, so deaf the death

          laid upon the table of my double.

 

2.

The lacks
           under the sun
Rise to looks:

Sun the sightless One, whose lit
Iterations

Speak of of & of

          expenditure & chill––

Lost at last

Knowing nothing other
           than shimmer as position.

With cause, my contingent visage
Wears its verb
           & judgement:

To unsex the fixed center––

That which lacks, then looks
           between my eyes: my

          twin identities, where
          woman is a man of woe.

 

 

                     [ see also ]

A Note on Andrew Joron
by Clayton Eshleman

 

back to issue two

 

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