Jun 14, 2009

'in morning, reverberant'*


in morning, reverberant


"The memory of a precise colour in the street bounces back on another country, another distance - endlessly." - Chris Marker, Sans Soleil


as a day unfolds silently and very fast.


as a dawn colour flooding in the lesser lamps and overtaken.


as a boundary of lit shards breaking in radial lines opening to graph the bay and further it.


as a creeping tungsten flared line of warmth and thaw through those eyes already open to it.


as the picture of a street which flutters down a street.


as description and commentary mainly recorded off-site.


as a repeated series of opening blinds cut into dark into light into dark/lit cutting.


as a sequence of bricked pillars arcing the potential for that part of the narrative.


as location footage gathered around this time of day over an indefinite period.


as happening again and again reinforcing the arbitrary site as centre of seeing.


as fiction and nonfiction trees that enable me to go on counting them.


as a never ending loop which drives by like an expected bus on time.


as a sequence of easily memorisable patterns.


as the tendency toward valuing certain small objects.


as a story most likely to be happening now that it is.


as lemon slice and coffee in the cafe breaking into speech, as one city into the memory of another.


as overlaid archival material of birds' upflight from the square as device of remembrance.


as worlds experienced while roaring inside the wild whiteness of feathers.


as angling in with desire's mathematics of storm.


as motioned with you as utterance, shoulder to shoulder.


as the attempt to know, eyes closed, and precisely.


as this detail, a material formerly unembodied, unheard or unpublished.


as nothing existing outside of this recording.


as an instant of what went before and failed to capture it.


as knowing even within the experience that it is already.


as an instance of what we were and merely.


as a series of copies or distortions.


as a repetition turning into and within the excess of language's unravel.


as replay of sequence in rolling sight.


as the same actors every time, the same speech, the same.



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*[first published in the Australian literary magazine Going Down Swinging, issue 28 (2009), p. 7]