by Brian Blanchfield
Up ahead out here, and his affiliate, rival in the eyes,
someone near, but not our crowd, someone whom
you approach in a poem only
to the extent of his vantage out, to the verb open out
onto. To that extent, you fit into his
looking suit, to the glove points, othering,
a long parenthesis of lens, a self sort of, a caul kind of
first feeling, to the doubled pocket
mouth. Kissed him from inside:
what’s yes in any es gibt,
contributing thus
the plus of a little sentience. Have you too felt extra fleetingly?
The early given is he faces the same way we, as though
we sent him to this promontory. To him assign
yourself, and borrow charge. What part of us
you are yet, and what through him and his would I,
if I were you, retrieve in the purview —or whom,
if you want someone with a look, sending looks,
someone underway and expressing it, someone
drawing from ceremony sensation, separating her own
from others’ —gets lost in happening. This is their scene.
Situation’s giving onto someone.
Put out some hedge and overhear.
The foreground and the horizon are idea’s.
Consider the milieu durance.
Way out there now.
Last updated December 10, 2022