activates her
            crooked knee as
                                    a frame for
his face
            for his
                        intimacy for
his violence
            against her

The Caravan Project



Within the trailered cave, they are poulticed by moss, their whitened bodies lifting, pokily, like trilliums from a bryophitic carpet. Elbow leading, her arm upheaves the hanging moss and lets it fall. Abstractedly, he plucks a stick dangling from the roofmass. At certain angles, the gauze over their faces opaques and renders them featureless. We stand waiting.


And they too, seem to be waiting. Even on their hours-long torturous dawdling peregrinations, they seem to be waiting. As though each expected the other to disclose a purpose, their mutual purpose. As if the moss might offer its revelation. As if their faces were ever to be the embryos of some gestating surprise. Or it is as though he has forgotten all about her and she has forgotten him and then they happen to glimpse each other and so sedately raise their hands in unison, in semi-recognition, quivering, the web across his face and arm quivering as with the memory of sentiment, a memory gauzy and webbed as they themselves are webbed with sleep and underworld, and how long can such imminence be sustained? They are two question marks in a terrarium and she has crawled now onto the ledge and paused, and he is springing up now on his toes as if to ascend, as if to initiate the decisive act, with every tension clapping to the arches of his feet, to his bulbous calves, their striated thew, and then he cannot remember what that act might be, the toes speculatively gripping and releasing before the heels lower themselves and touch ground again and the soles reconsider their accustomed load. And she has already turned, in any case, inside herself, unroused.

Caravan Garden
Abandoned egg yawing, behind, drooplets, uterine crown fire,
their torsos sway, heads, wag silently, bestir themselves,
keening from, half mineral half, leaf, a palisade of scarlety, bristles,
gauze globule, delicate-like, chrysalid, bestirred separately, upward, twisting
into space, antennary plumes, dangle, red-lit, gnawed,
his wrists, bounded by arteries, their torsos, pendulate, from igneous moss,
rich in pith, and retted, into limpness with their, sweat, bridal night,
degorged here, the force
that drives her forward, of counter-desire, absolute,
physical apprehension, they will choose, are choosing have, chosen,
to participate, like adjacent colors, 
 skin, talc, cracked stalks, pausing, filling with, eye-lorn,
lavender and citronella nest,
delicately, caught in

When Nights Were Dark




                    pressed                         together
                   in the             (they)           wombish
       wet glow in              (are in)            cerise semi-
eclipse overhung           (place and)            with spume
stripped                          (it is)                                   they are
   cocooned but               (of them)                seen as through
            a rip                                                an imploring
                                  open mouth



Taut current, throughstricken
with night, starbit,

and both of them
facing off. En-
igma tipped to

She floats on swirled
obsidian current. Their
sightlines swim across
each other. Stars
don’t look away
from the unfolding,

the going alluvial,
she against his



            to the blanks in her face-slots





Until they sound each other                they scrape
around in confines of blindness       skin

on skin as mind       peering overhead 

at her own hand         exposed
ardency         foot fully-pointed

The carotid takes its (slightly)       curved
course north of his breastbone

then it finishes         (his white flower breath)
and the head loosens from        its stem

falling back unsupported

He accepts the straw              as her gift
sacrum to           sacrum his fingers

at her ear her       hair swallows his wrist
Of some mutilated offering       these are the

black feathers               the canoe-bone in her shin
and ashes from his body rising






Unpacks the recognizable its chaos here
            and the composition stutters Face
                        stalking itself from inside beyond
all levels of--  Compressed into looking
            unplotted brutal adust His back
                        muscles Her ribcage splays They are naked

filled with the enormity of naked
            stillness Head held up Her hair
                        pierced Quills fixed to her back

and her right knee bent to her face
            The air muffled through which his looking
                        flies from somnolent eyes beyond

walls that mark another beyond
            of rooms echoey with shoe-scuffs naked
                        squeaks Fully stretched he looks

up Bows his neck His hair
            pouring to the floor as his face
                        lifts chin tilting back-

wards toward the audience seated back
            from the stage on benches in a beyond
                        of dim-out from which they face

the mound of ordure with naked
            bodies on either side Blue-black hair
                        soft as a negative of two matchflames Look

at the splice of likeness then look
            again It is severed They turn their backs
                        as waterdrops pop here

and here across the dirt and beyond
            in dim penetralia Naked
                        sound of waterdrops in the quiet Her face

fissures Her mouth a rictus Her face
            in its final expression An unsustainable look
                        into another dimension Of what? His naked

hand a piece of music boosted into the black
            as we in kerfed light beyond
                        ourselves reach for his fingers reaching for her hair

Two larval bodies naked with faces
            and seared straw in their hair hold our looking
                        to the dark back of and beyond




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