& the fidgeting of the fan & the heightened ceilings & the thick wooden beams & the basic counter post & the joists & toggle bolts & steel frame & the fan fidgety & silent & moving with the heated air & the bodies & the bodies & the bodies she recalled the bodies swinging & the woman’s breath moving in the air beside her breath & the barn doors held fast to their frame & the moveable air & the sharp intake of the moon &

her mind moveable but not like the air not like the short hairs that move on her arms under a small fan not

like the woman in the center fainting not fainting falsetto feet rising rising rising rising ris–now propped on the balls of her feet the obedience of arms follow their predictable arms there they go pressured to rise rise rise not unlike the pressure of air to predict movement beneath the voiced fan now the hands open off the woman goes apocrypha step casuistic fingerprints inventing a tongue by which to speak the what centered in the room moving invisibly around her the word –

a moth flies close to her mouth she wants to speak but the centered woman has the right to voice not her sitting there cringing from the 1/2-inch wingspan of the moth back & forth so close to her mouth where did it come from this assiduous attention thief & where has its wings been what fifth of its memory waits

to recall her breath deliberately harsh filtering into the room her breath invisible flutters this moth’s wings the power she feels every time the moth dips against the breath that is hers struggles to right itself in the room’s air which is not hers she breathes hard pushes air through her nostrils harder harder

harder she opens her mouth and sighs & catches sound her sound & tension line her back shoulders raw beams her neck steel rod & in this tension she purses her lips draws the sound her sound back into her mouth silently she sucks the sound her sound down her throat through her lungs & further the breath she wants to push it to L5 then sacrum then coccyx let the sound her sound reside there where other sounds reside biting agonizing sounds each fight for reversal coccyx sacrum L5 L4 L3 L2 L1 T12 & so on until they reclaim their sacred space larynx–cricoid thyroid cartilage arytenoid vocal folds glottis epiglottis hyoid intrinsic & extrinsic laryngeal muscles all waiting for these sounds to move upward to reclaim their shapes to sit on the tongue until the mind can claim its right to speak–years of sounds accumulating in her coccyx

& she always weighted rooted to pasts hung by the words noosed around her larynx the words hanging from the wooden t-beam she’d made of her throat she suiciding the words the sounds coughing falling backwards self-protective these sounded words crashing back into her lower body weighted & rooted light moveable her brain’s disparate particles recounting the same stories the same images voiceless bodies looping around the currency of her throaty mind mined not for shareable sounds serviceable images surrealable touches smells starched

in the thinning night air bodies hanging shocked tongues hanging the living panting the dying panting the engines panting idly dogs in whitened night air panting unstill night air as all winged bodies she wants to arch away above the scene to see the winged air open its feathered arms now the arms close now open over & over the mothed minds’ warble & the trees warble & the spring blossoms falling from sudden jerking weights warble before crashing into living bodies soft earth horned cars no one here is silent treed birds no longer nestling here under this series of wrecked weights they cannot warble this night’s warring limbs the thick-limbed trees crackle against concealable stacked headlamps & the irrepressible dance of shadows collude & collapse into the unfrenzied adumbration of bodies the agitation of voices spasmodic unwords umph she remembers sssssrrrroooo she remembers ggggg she remembers from the trees ggggggg the paroxysm that brought this bevy of unwords here the yuuuuuhhhh of cloaks the hiss of hoods the trees braying what to do with these sounds collecting in the uncontained air she wants to morph into a ghost moth open her mouth & collect fumed sounds & there the sounds burrow into her tongue & now her tongue pregnant these minute-old sounds round on her tongue each discrete egg hardening finding temporary comfort in their new muscular home she closes her mouth & presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth lets the sounds feed on the hard palate runs her tongue side-to-side then presses harder & runs her tongue up-and-down the sounds massaged nurtured by the moth-woman as far away from herself as imaginable she retreats into her mind & mistakenly comes back for her heart & explosions of gratification & the imploded muffles of surrender the men pull their hoods back sweat is all the face she can make out sweat for eyes sweat for noses sweat of foreheads and & the sweaty sweaty mouths mouthing yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes gratification on their sweaty teeth nearly she feels the underside of empty:

where she wants to rest beneath her father’s Chevy sleep she wants sleep until the evening is dream the night a series of implosions cloaks peeled from faces faces peeled from night night peeled from earth earth from the universe & now nothingness no present no sounds holding her tongue culpable simple she wants simplicity the night freed from the enslavement of stars puncturing


the unfree sky

pure black night scarred scabs of headlights :: lunar globes :: flashlights :: waist-high stars :: new moon :: dark moon :: fat white clouds in the full black sky :: on the other side of the world


there is a night utterly black a forest much like the forest the woman shivers in unfettered by men their dogs their women & cars


their desires for purity :: hanging not like fruit :: the woman the night stutters repeat :: tree-heaving evenings eclipse of moths stretch of fresh death night’s glycerin air :: what reprieve in repetition :: she wants; she imagines; the mind curled into nap; agita of sound; pregnant tongue; coccyx swollen with the pasts the pasts sweltering the pasts swinging the pasts bodiless ::


dropped infinitives the pasts dangling participles the bodies alive & dying & dripping & dancing & howling & guttural & now & now sounds sickle slumberers in her coccyx rows of crescent-shaped hammocks holding them the woman

adjusts herself in her seat moves her hips right right left right rocks the sounds to sleep she cups her hands captures the moth locks it into the unfamiliar life love lines of her sinfully soft hands the past is put to bed now & the present rises in front of her in the form of an unhooded woman, leaving the stage