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COVER ART FOR THIS CHAPBOOK IS A REPRODUCTION OF A WATERCOLORBY MACKENZIE CARIGNAN”S 4 YEAR OLD SON, ELIOT PONTARELLI.
CR79 Books/Defeffablewww.defeffable.org
Elizabeth Bryant, editor
© MACKENZIE CARIGNAN 2008
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CONTENTS
my wound is a simmering punctuation mark 5
born is the cleanest foliage 6
distraction is the blankest shape 7
the stone is now my wall 8
this leak is an everlasting stain 9
how category becomes a distant bird 10
something lost is the greatest evidence of “had” 11
house is a cage for sleep 12
drain has become a worthy depth 13
the next is evidence of been 14
5
my wound is a simmering punctuation mark
saltthat left you wondering about what kindling
gashdoes it to smile, that you though, maybe, in the sunken morning
scriptor the scripted undone. there’s nothing quite as precious as mud
ifyou could crawl and speak simultaneously, you would carry a heavy weight
scrollthough the way you abdicate is linear and accessory
flagas if you loved looking at me
baybut would you swim with only jellyfish?
thornin the place you thought was safe. punctured and blew
6
born is the cleanest foliage
eggcannot be likened to a tree
bowlis a bottomless tree
nestis a tapestry
deadbut the tree still stands
leafis not evidence of a tree
eggwas there but happened too quickly
bowlto the face on a pivotal hinge
nestflew into tornado and glass
deadbalance the march innuendo
leafis my desperate, quaking plant
7
distraction is the blankest shape
trianglecharacter style fast menu
squaretwice alive not wearing monster
lineeyebrows quick like symptoms dire
pointgiven fireball is the collar of good
trianglerecognize in the water on the sidewalk
squareis the jar in the mirror two and four
linefrom the shadow the trail leaves tracks
pointyou welcome the flavor before it's gone
8
the stone now is my wall
pebbleslong eyes tread with speckles to you
quarryglance or is it already expired? glance
mineralshe bought her a crystal with the greatest intentions
boulderflock of spite, bitter to land and be covered with stain
gravelmissing the mountains, the significance of graves
siltit is clay, she recommends, with the utmost of certainty
sandor salt, or chalk, or sparkling liquid capable of shine
storyyou cannot begin to tell
fenceit is the rocks that keep me honest
9
this leak is an everlasting stain
holebut no, it doesn't have sides or a bottom
organmore like wing than spleen
cancerthe tumor is the presence, not the absence
polyplooking like an eyeball and focusing
intestineand all of its exchanges
ovarywhen you imagine grapes. again eyes
absorptionwhere do the puddles go? wash
10
how category becomes a distant bird
graphlike a precipice and ridge
spiralnot your complicated replication
apologythe tendency of fluid to move to the area of least pressure
nickelso smooth in his hand. questions about the sky
hebigger than the universe and arms
graphrise beyond the paper
ifyou could have held that single, multiplying cell in your hand
carnagewho knew it could be so minute?
11
something lost is the greatest evidence of “had”
playsand sticks in layers landscape his arm
gougethat grammar will never reach you. form
hillstimulate the seedlings, starlings, sterling dress
imaginebeautiful triangular ships arriving
imaginethat you might have multiplied and burrowed
imaginethe wood without the water. parched
bringhis significance is blinding. even his own sadness
12
house is a cage for sleep
bagof envelope to deliver your woven guise
satchelthe laugh to tie the long-awaited kiss. evaporate
sheetwrapped your arms which came to mean early light
gestureto you who will never have eyes
slingher chaffed skin refused to be moisturized
ligamentbrazen chest of your disappearance
longingto find my own pulse again
petrifiedhe doesn't believe the world was ever wood
13
drain has become a worthy depth
bankcrested bottom of wing in flight
evaporateleaving only ground and saturate
soakher destain for linen is in proportion to the size of the window
threeleft her wondering about where the overgrowth has infested
cagefeeling an avalanche between my hips
longit was the morning that brought the splatter
twodistinct shapes of oblong thirst
countingpast the day of cave-in and demolition
14
the next is what evidence of been
planthow gently the roots and systems grow
placeyourself too far from my reach
youare newly burrowed and not yet gone away
howdo I forget how everything collapsed? bowl
synthesisthe movement I see when my eyes are focused on black
newhow did you come back and rest so comfortably in a cage for sleep?
newsystem to create systems. how complicated the flow
newit is not an erasure. giant weight of your growth