G-NT3806KSJP

MOI MOI FOR WAR-TORN NOUNS / February 22, 2018




       
        Give us a kiss moi moi for war-torn nouns. Who am I in the else being longed after. For some one instead I crept but caught daydreaming again. Hand over your notes said Grandmother Gertie and let us see what careless water you mend.

2/22/18……

            “rid of cover” = freedom / freedom = exposure
            “change” = unwelcome interpretation
            “there is a breath” = breathing new life to words [in the death of their environments]
            “cleansing”
            “no programme”
            “washing” + “polishing” words of their meaning…
            “dirt is clean” = destruction of meaning [signification =  stain] / the means to be cleansed
of meaning?
            “more of double” = more of the ravages?
            mixing colors…
            “A box” [appears 2x]
            systems / lines
            pin/button = sewing/threading / “tender” as a result of incessantly “pushing one’s
buttons”?
            custom / arrangement / authorization / what is the use?
            “leading”
            “hurt” / “spreading”
            numbers that “age”
            sudden / succession
            “in”
            “_____, real _____” such as il reste/restait_____ = _____ remains [or] there remains
_____/_____ remained [or] there remained _____ [il = not he/one yet it]
            “exercise” = mind [style]?
            “the center”

            Tsk tsk tsk highly disappointing what a fraught record of attention. But I yet inside I was trying to remember in place of the thing itself and recognizing the words but by how unfamiliar. Resemblance remembrance what tenets are these when a motion picture spins. Looking dapper and swag the opening line is one of mine strut strut strut. Not over yet where you come from until tomorrow. I was somewhere standing still where a gulf screamed and I was six scotches deep. Somewhen where the word was rushing in onomatopoeia and carried came back in the instant. He end with this yes yes yes but what about feeling says Grandmother Gertie always remember your secondary texts. Ariadne’s thread it led I thinks to plot to potential yes yet a trail when we know to intrude certain demises. The lawn glitters in snow for rhetorical effect. I don’t see it she said now come sit down for dinner we’ll have no more to choke on once the lakes freeze over have you listened not to what I say an ounce at least. But remember tomorrow in footprints alas it was suppertime and spinach sizzling. Above the table hung a portrait of L’inconnue de la Seine frozen over and coy with death. In love one can’t look it in the eye. We’re having noodles with your notes inside the labyrinth she says syntax in your dish why spin the fork in parts of speech. Tend the temperature of her bath for after the aperitifs Grandmother Gertie will be tired and forlorn once she’s finished dining that’s for sure. Behind her tsk tsk tsk grin I don’t know why I even cook for you anymore. The motor of the coupe hums in tandem with the blinking red light in her skeleton room. World the words be familiar when returned to not so soon yes no not any less familiar than how they were left. Do not come to bed until you have cleaned your plate.


Jared Daniel Fagen is the author of The Animal of Existence, forthcoming from Black Square Editions in 2022. His prose poems and essays have appeared in The Brooklyn Rail, Lana Turner, Asymptote, Prelude, and Caesura, among other publications. He is founding editor of Black Sun Lit, a PhD candidate in Comparative Literature at the CUNY Graduate Center, and an English instructor at the City College of New York. Born in Seoul, he lives in Brooklyn and the northern Catskills.