The Onset Exits
and the Damage Done
treat philosophy itself as impossible.
Louis Althusser, For Marx
of these good old days, I'm gonna call your name.
Though made however
visible, the signal
success becomes an end for putting up
one's evidence. The result is what sagged
thick beneath the contrary pole, sort of handed
down from the dishonor attaching to
productive early consequences of
your ownership. And so it is to be
"community" no longer but a stain,
dependent for its livelihood on yes.
Form of wasted
Rendered as a verb
to some few cheap
false goods conspicuously
outset in philosophy. The floorplan,
the voyage to the backing of the mirror
and back to front the openness of this
Its cross-eyed binocular
windowing of options from the desktop
horizoning the line of sight behind
direct each direct
expression of classed
schemata, bent space.
Past life replanted
in the yard that
hasn't time for second
planted feet to take
the straddled upright measure of ruled, unruly stance.
A certain number bend
to shape, living up the walls. Time enough
for severancegive that repetitive
stress injury a final grunt by way
of compensation. When you think
to leave, your key drops through the slot, like mail,
stamps you with the ring of self-address.