Form as parenthetical, or capture, versus form as complaint.
The world, or what I see of it at a given point in time, presents. Perceiving, I arrive or am impressed by shape or outline. Am I, as a citizen, advanced or receding?
Form, proposed. A poem in form, or, more likely, a form as poem. Am I guilty or representative?
Fire formed to burn, writer turned toward form. But really, we are not turned. We incline that way, toward form and formalities, as a painter reaches for a blank canvas, or a musician writes on sheets scored for musical notes.
The page, the blank screen, presents. Journeying, she listed eyes to perceive Windows 8. A bird alit and mumbled in sharp tones. All kinds of light fell away like children falling asleep.
I will die, and in this time I am presented with the sight of a street, a bit of sky. These many hours until dinner. This to do today. Form.
In a kind of work like stacking barrels, or setting a schedule for trains and their cargo in a vast sort of crossing - younger, I would have called it confusion - but this is the library of new works, some re-presented, captured, falteringly. A grasshopper's leap serves the words of a master. She combs her hair. She lays down the comb. She sips some water.
I am not her. I am watching her.
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