Saturday, May 23, 2009

Schematic (7)

The train enters the tunnel, great piston breaches the oily cylinder, clockwork tide driven to foam on the rocks, and the marriage is over.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Schematic (6)

A rat in the dark attic at midnight, bolt-cutter teeth incising insulation. Black wire, red wire. A spark. The pianist's hands stop playing.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Schematic (5)

Wreckage washed ashore, fragments of fuselage and cowling, seat backs, oxygen masks, and hermit crabs remade themselves of metal and bone.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Schematic (4)

Under the hood where gear meshes integer, in the hamster wheel of the heart, a singularity appears, an homunculus, a social security number.

Schematic (3)

The elevator kept trembling: the mechanism out of key: but the riders held their eyes fixed on the dial, the reassuring arbitrary numbers.

Schematic (2)

The steel ratchet in the wind: she felt it against her corneas, pressing precisely into the metric eye sockets, turning, tightening.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Schematic (1)

Inside the machine is another machine which refers to the machine enclosing it. So he touches her hand, and the image of a child emerges.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Interrogations (9)

That singular point on the continuum from which time reads like an inscribed transparency: just ahead, the hospital bed, the miraculous IV.

Interrogations (8)

Horses in a meadow over strata of loess and limestone, reflections limned through the meniscus of earth by fossilized skeletons of dolphins.

Interrogations (7)

In pinewoods at midnight the trapped weasel gnawing its own leg stops to consider its bitter self-taste.

Interrogations (6)

Dying, by then, seemed normal to her, a breath and another breath and nothing, a stone dropped in water continuing in water to be a stone.

Interrogations (5)

They sat on the bridge rail drinking wine in starlight, watching for meteors to etch their glass-cutter lineage into what passed for future.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Interrogations (4)

She pauses on the bridge and looks down. Something about the way water moves, about light. But the child pulls her skirt, crying time, time.

Interrogations (3)

The old woman in the wheelchair watched raindrops inscribe the window. She read its poem to her blind friend, who mumbled protest: too fast.

Interrogations (2)

At dawn the astronomer closed his dome. The morning star incised the horizon with a smell of lilies and a circle of blood on the eyepiece.

Interrogations (1)

Giles Penny

At dinner, he sat silent, staring at his plate while the others chatted--a ringing in his ears, a gray aura around the chop, sulfurous mist.