Vowels in preparation for floating.
»«»«»«»«
The
widest hour of night. A man wakens in the black ice does he know he wakes does
he.
Slate cliffs rising in the mind. His attentions buckle and lift.
A syllable situates in his hollows. Smooth flanked and breathing.
A syllable from where where if death were provenance.
He imagines the syllable beautiful he aligns the weight of it onto his will.
Now versus infinity in its vowel.
He considers. What vowel fills a body plumb. What lifts or aligns gorgeous of its own accord.
Minding softly and listening he. Still the ice still the sleepsack still the stacking cold.
The darkness loosens.
»«
Sun seepage in gold. A man is definitely awake now he climbs the rise and the situated stirs all roundnesses stir. The mouth of fate where it empties into the river. The light breeze.
He sees these and the vowel rises in him. A naming sound. Barely visible under the ribs.
Swelling there heat perhaps.
Unaware of his own ovens of his gathering will—
of the horse nostril lowering to drink O o o—
a vowel pulls a man into himself against all odds.
»«
A man a pin a hardly bright into the mountain side. The air simmers before him. A thin wooden bridge sways and coyly. From him to the next cliff nothing but falling.
He’s found the word for falling and everything falls.
The word fills his glands his mouth fills a cast of fear forms. Does he know he sees. A kind of
chasm only the spirit can sally.
He gathers his senses. Regards the tension of the round sound. Regards the rinsing greys of
stones. Tensile surfaces. Air in the air he glimpses.
Crossing may happen now or never. What ovens burn he couldn’t say. A nameless flame.
The great silhouettes cover their faces as he passes.
His vowel globed and growing. Ductile. A man hardly notices and the sound overfills him with every hue of belonging.
Slate drops from the mind. Cliffs nowhere to be found. A new word forms.
»«
A language crowns.
He inducts he. With regal sophistication.
From 1934-36, German zoologist and SS officer Ernst Schäfer and American naturalist Brooke Dolan II conducted a natural history expedition across Tibet and China—their second of the decade. They collected roughly 3,000 birds over the course of this trip, including species and subspecies new to Linnaean taxonomy. The birds were then transported back to the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia and the Museum für Naturkunde Berlin, where they remain today.
Slate cliffs rising in the mind. His attentions buckle and lift.
A syllable situates in his hollows. Smooth flanked and breathing.
A syllable from where where if death were provenance.
He imagines the syllable beautiful he aligns the weight of it onto his will.
Now versus infinity in its vowel.
He considers. What vowel fills a body plumb. What lifts or aligns gorgeous of its own accord.
Minding softly and listening he. Still the ice still the sleepsack still the stacking cold.
The darkness loosens.
»«
Sun seepage in gold. A man is definitely awake now he climbs the rise and the situated stirs all roundnesses stir. The mouth of fate where it empties into the river. The light breeze.
He sees these and the vowel rises in him. A naming sound. Barely visible under the ribs.
Swelling there heat perhaps.
Unaware of his own ovens of his gathering will—
of the horse nostril lowering to drink O o o—
a vowel pulls a man into himself against all odds.
»«
A man a pin a hardly bright into the mountain side. The air simmers before him. A thin wooden bridge sways and coyly. From him to the next cliff nothing but falling.
He’s found the word for falling and everything falls.
The word fills his glands his mouth fills a cast of fear forms. Does he know he sees. A kind of
chasm only the spirit can sally.
He gathers his senses. Regards the tension of the round sound. Regards the rinsing greys of
stones. Tensile surfaces. Air in the air he glimpses.
Crossing may happen now or never. What ovens burn he couldn’t say. A nameless flame.
The great silhouettes cover their faces as he passes.
His vowel globed and growing. Ductile. A man hardly notices and the sound overfills him with every hue of belonging.
Slate drops from the mind. Cliffs nowhere to be found. A new word forms.
»«
A language crowns.
He inducts he. With regal sophistication.
From 1934-36, German zoologist and SS officer Ernst Schäfer and American naturalist Brooke Dolan II conducted a natural history expedition across Tibet and China—their second of the decade. They collected roughly 3,000 birds over the course of this trip, including species and subspecies new to Linnaean taxonomy. The birds were then transported back to the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia and the Museum für Naturkunde Berlin, where they remain today.
