Projection and the Literal
A Vignette of Spirituals

...this is what it sounds like.

A little place to hide. The approach tenderly cut. The fringe dissolves at their feet.

Swaying grasses in the pasture.

Daybreak. They cough and stare into the distance toward the opposite hillside, wishing they had never been there before and that it was all new, but that the light beckons.

It continues inward from the periphery until a soft whiteness persists. Towards the center in every direction it is faintly more luminous creating a sense of vastness and ambiguous depth. In this way it is the same in all directions.

Overlooking a new home site cut out of ice plant and scrub juniper at the edge of the canyon, they kicked at the dust. Finding none, they followed the rocky path back down, squinting with the sun in their eyes.

They notice a glittering speeder on the horizon.

Look out into the darkness and do you see that wavering? Flat and expanding.

The three shines wane in the air.

Smoke from the first fires hangs low across the plain. They gather and sip from steaming cups. Waiting.

A chill runs through it all, squinting to adjust they file onto the bus packed in with gear. The ground skimming past, they bounce inland. Each morning at the same time, under the sky the same thing in two places. This is what it looks like and...

This is a re-connected arrangement of text works that continue a long running interest in the idea of a poem on a loop in a sense, or a poem which could potentially be read over and over without ending. This piece along with a group of photographs will be published in an upcoming edition of a literary magazine. More details soon.

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