John Schertzer


Thus where you were in the sentence
Or paper bag a page climbing up along
The row of boxes toward the back
Of a storage room in a building of glass
In a car along the river as the bridge
Rises out of the water and into the night sky

In a paragraph made of mud and weeds
Bonded together so the rain won’t get in
In a sky of glass in the lobby
Of a building in the center of the word for go

Or haven't yet a word one never thinks of
Lastly trying to steal a world from its safe
Pressurized cabin as it enters the ozone
Page of the atmosphere accelerating toward
The speed of sound or the speed of popcorn

Burning on the stove before the house goes up
The wind in the window starting to rise
In creeping degrees of warmth that turns
The key in the fence the key in the key in it




I often wonder whether, by following one's own quasi-rational associations, it might be possible to abstain from both analogical and Objectivist obsessions, and whip up a new kind of encounter between language and body, synced up through the sensual imagination and a prescribed mayhem. If language is a filter, then this attempts to be a film, and the riff off Duchamp implies perhaps that it would also be a form of inframince.