> Aaron Shurin, WE ARE SOME PLACE


Par |2017-12-30T12:57:57+00:00 26 juillet 2013|Catégories : Aaron Shurin, Poèmes|


We are some place that isn’t now, with our bou­gain­vil­lea shorts in a tangle, and the salt air fresh on our flo­rid lips — but there are no flo­wers here, no viney pop-ups, no scar­let puff-balls blo­wing light. We are people who aren’t real­ly us, chan­ged by the fal­ling cur­tains and blocks of ice, the spasms under shee­ted clouds of shrie­king rain, that pocked our arms with scars like bite marks… cin­der stars… How did we change so fast, drop­ping our books and wigs in haste, dazed by the sil­ver ripples in the sky that see­med to know our secret wants and needs…? We fell hard, wan­ting to be known, hur­ting to be had… as one by one we took the gela­tin host, mol­ded into our lungs so eve­ry breath we drew was stuck with the gum of who we couldn’t be, a thi­cke­ned gasp of pas­sing phan­toms… Shaking our heads, arms hacking the air, we fled — but how do you flee the sky ? — we stop­ped — or were we com­man­ded to stop ? — we set­tled — is that the term for fal­ling down ? — fore­ver res­t­less in our toes and lobes, hea­vy to sit and light to think. We are hap­pe­ning some­time that isn’t where we are, in a seam of a seal we can’t remem­ber or des­cribe… and pace the qua­drant up and down, and claw the ether as if it were fit­ted stone, and glance over our shoul­ders in ner­vous twists as if we were coming to get our­selves, pale and dri­ven and bla­zo­ned with revenge…