from A Screening of the First Thirty-five Refugees from Qaim as Filmed by V. and assistants
1
Five televised toy cars
about to run together
like ink
No-one is listening
for the sound
Bomb vaporizes, dishes squeak
&
The density of the shifting of densities
is very interesting
Voice and sequence
They’re making a deal
on the high stone wall
between the villages
The galaxy, seen from afar,
would look
the same, but in the evening
things will be turning out
under the terms,
counterinsurgent in their
whiteness.
The explosion
is delayed;
Statue or Bust
Wrong town.
Across the crawl
(the strip at the base of the screen,
also known as the “ticker”)
words scroll:
x, y, and the illusion of depth
2
x, y, and the illusion of z
scrambled, smeared
the specifics
enter the picture
in the form of planes
routes
traced
across
the desert
Trees scribbled over
for the sake of the scribble,
or scribbling
more or less
densely composed
Argument can be similar
Then again, no line is necessary
Each day the instruments recorded the spectre
pacing, narrowly skirting
the well’s rim at the far end of the
colonnade
“To see into the depths
presupposes depth”
Artfully
the man on the frozen horse
fell into decline
5
I hear these trees sound
graphed to you.
Frozen
and intrinsic limbs, smooth bark feigning ahistoricality,
—a financier comes on
slow, like a bomb
on the news:
“Between sycamore and its analogies
yawns the chasm of everything human”
Whatever it is,
its sonata’s truer than its statue
Things, like themes, are held apart
so that they may collide
or slide around one another
Here is a horse
arguing by motion
for its continuous absence
from the field, and in the field
The Acting President tried to sketch this,
quaked, slept
dreaming the blur of points
Copyright © Andy Gricevich, 2006
