Genesis 5


Threads skirped into webby vascular networks, white mesas unmoored in nightness, as twisted scrap paper, lint, in a pocket opalescent dripstone, cave onyx, no apparent source of light.



Struck by the pointlessness of comparison, but what more do you want? For seeing not to degenerate into ceremony. Or already. Perhaps the demands of this seeing cannot be regarded as what we have taken to be “seeing.” Suppose there is a contradiction in the image’s terms? But if we turn quickly away, has the image vitiated what we saw before?



The laevorotatory isomers
going optically active. Loafing
on pocket money and
pelagic intimations on
top of it. In this case, two
collodion-silver teeth knocked
down his throat, a pullet’s
egg to hold in the palm
while standing fixed as the
subject of a bet.