††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† †††††††LAURA CARTER






Part 1


††††††††††† In body

††††††††††† the place between noumenal

& phenomenal chasmís

a cradle brushed with water



I am afraid of this hate.

Someone waved the Cadillac flag

into the sky.


††††††††††† The accountant took fire

to make jack-o-lanterns

into little nests.


Anthropomorphized music

little bird walking in street

††††††††††† perpendicular

as good as rocks once gathered


††††††††††† as good as haecceity

in the back of a green car

as the feeling I

get from this


is not the feeling

of the tufts of clouds

or the analytic muse

or barrette††††††† in Atlanta


or the feeling that you get

wearing the peasant

or the shiny duck dress.

I crossed the street beside them


all with a mobile phone

dyed purple and writ girlish

in new skin and hair.


The one place where the phone will ring

in between walls

of the tennis court

swatting at flies


walking in circles through trees

until I get to the here.

††††††††††† I am

††††††††††† afraid

††††††††††† of all the love.


††††††††††† I stand in line and eat a peach

while the bus meanders up the block

swatting waving swatting more

in between walls and other folks


††††††††††† blue shoes blue hair blue water pail

purple chugging ochre

driving past


††††††††††† making a cup of tea

I am afraid of stories

but not of the telephone.

††††††††††† Eternity in dimes.

††††††††††††††††††††††† The bus chugs past.


And if you can think of

the green, we will be

††††††††††† happy to eat candy.


Part 2


Are you listening

poems are over my heart

a quiddity of green


††††††††††† done up over the blue

oh††††††† Iím not sure what the blue


has to do with the

listening or the

prophets or the coral

or the tabula brushed with


††††††††††† gaze & indecision

the mimetic representation

of the camera

far from abstract


& beside the water the other sea

grazing the houses of stone

where the orphans make their memories

swathed in red & black tat-tat

ethic of the nondescript story

a locked box of natural things

as I see into their pasts I

††††††††††††††††††††††† break


††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† out into spring

it is a hundred years older

than the grass beneath the porch &

thereís opera in the window

a mother leaning

††††††††††† with an old theory

††††††††††† blond girls run in the yard

& their eyes are wide open

in April


A Word


††††††††††† Almost deaf at it

a body gone

a body is gone


on the road a black pen

differential volume &

yen at the crux

††††††††††† the sun leaning into

the early garden

in circuits of red

††††††††††††††††††††††† it returns home to its

††††††††††††††††††††††† path of sundom

††††††††††††††††††††††† into the gaze of wake

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† the flowers burning

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† while Iím talking on the phone


a glittery suited man

comes to my door to bring

day & night in fragments of

what we once called this

& Iím above below


††††††††††† the city knows rain

the rags of the year

in red


a silver blue

††††††††††† pencilled question

as I count the cars

& bundle up my house & leave


††††††††††† the associations

one has of ethic

I have of half

††††††††††† at day

††††††††††† on Ponce de Leon or

driving through Sweet Auburn

beneath the folded sky

that pre-dawn moment

when motion starts

an arm of lilies

the scent of honeysuckle


flying a kite

thatís not black

thatís not white either

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† sky


††††††††††† structure of the possible &

woe††††††††††††††††† is not this

††††††††††† or situated


Part 3


††††††††††† A resemblance

††††††††††††††††††††††† under white Christmas

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† I answer:

††††††††††† starfish, kiss, open


the final drink with

the car Iíll be driving

of birth &

reconnaissance &

the manís name is

written on the wall

in bright red

††††††††††††††††††††††† of agency

††††††††††† & whiteness

I curdle in

††††††††††† & then stand up

to see the two

of the diffusion


on the duckish sea


He picks up a scythe

& pins an angel to the

top of the†††††††† nickeled

tree & I want the angel

breath††††††††††††† of the



††††††††††† On the lake the Madonna

over the tops of attention

I park the car, get out

& fold my hands

into the fifth circle of

indiscriminate love

& I brush a bird

up against a sign & I


††††††††††† the people kneeling close


I sleep alone

& am held by

††††††††††† the corner


††††††††††† & coming out of the corners

after I wake up

the light smell of the E


No one sees me board itó

no oneís at the marriage of

††††††††††† the nod and jiving

where I mistook one for

a lookó

the keeper of the train

reminds me that the lake is

keen on Monday mornings


I put out my hands &

††††††††††† make a fresh moi

from the two

colors of the sun

††††††††††††††††††††††† shining


I walk in circles

to meet the day

††††††††††† & stand close

to what I cannot be granted


for the assemblage is

ratio & cool

cooler than the water & not

††††††††††† as cool as a formalism

or a cyclic


††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† imaginationís song






††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† ††††††††††††††




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