Friday, November 27, 2009: Ffffound! Madame Herve: behind the curtains: Tilda's Advent

Cursor

The cursor ascends the screen
without prompting from my finger.

A Ouija board indicator, it floats
up, a white pennant raised by pulleys

off screen. This is evidence of
the magic buried inside the little

that we perceive, and call life.
The cursor hits the ceiling

of the monitor, bumps its point
on the edge of the screen.

I touch it with a pointed finger,
pluck it from the monitor

and hold it between thumb
and index finger. The edges

are sharp. Still it lies on the table,
unable to breathe the undigital air,

pointing with no reason, an arrow
irretrievably jettisoned, aimless.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009: The Library of Congress on Flickr (via the Flickr blog)

Perspective

Distance can be condensed,
compressed,

so that it lies flat as paper
on paper.

Gaping cathedrals, their ceilings
like flipped-

over, suspended pirate ships.
Sloping

hills and lonely orchards.
Stairwells

leading up or down,
the faint

edge of land across
the lake.

Immensities yield to the page,
clumsy

hands tacking them onto
horizon.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009: Notcot #26456

The Dash

Like windows into the core of meaning,
gauges throw their needles' weight
on numbered pinpricks. To indicate
a change in speed, a car's careening

from trot to gallop, the pointer lifts
an inch or two. The engine shrieks
within the efficiency of its physique,
and still, the needle barely shifts.

Scarce as a body's slump into sleep,
change comes. To quantify
the present, we need a contraption, an eye
that registers physics. The car is a heap

of motorized gears. We were built
of miscalculation, the earth's tilt.

Monday, November 23, 2009: Ffffound! Quoted from: tumblr_kt4zhrIETb1qapnito1_500.jpg

The Drive

I drive past four car accidents
in half an hour. Blue, red, yellow
light tumbles through my car
with the trajectory of a soaring
soccer ball. I drive slowly, I do,
the car's gait laced with caution
and avoidance. At arm's length
from the disaster, this is where
I try to hold myself, upright
and singing along with voices
propelling from the spinning disc
in the dash. Onward without plan,
I assign the memory part of my brain
to get me home, to reel me in
one car length at a time.

Friday, November 19, 2009: Ffffound! Quoted from: Lovely Package

Presence

If I am here,
I am not elsewhere.

For every
one of of my actions,

there are
a staggering amount

of verbs
I have not used.

This is the
trouble with one foot

in front of
the other. If we illuminated

all the paths
I have not surveyed, surely

the map would
blind me, this cardiovascular

system begging
to carry blood, air, a body.