Wednesday, April 9, 2014

"poem" broadsheet #326: On Water (from Elizabeth to Jenny), by Elizabeth Robinson



It touches its own body to measure ambiguity.


Where do I go, asks the hand of the touch:


gas, liquid, solid.



I am not who I am.



What was once blue, was green, white, black, translucent.


And is so again. 


Water mates with itself, a lover falling hard through

soft,  betraying through trustworthy,  torrent through


opacity.


All that we knew of each other in our form,


where do I go, blunt and insinuating.


The touch paired with itself.  A humid air.



The point of contact as it bathes and thirsts.


A hand on a real body, its mutable fact.


On Water (from Elizabeth to Jenny)
by Elizabeth Robinson
above/ground press broadside #326
Elizabeth Robinson’s must recent books are the hybrid essay On Ghosts and the poetry collections Counterpart and Blue Heron.  Robinson is a co-editor of Instance Press and the literary periodical pallaksch.pallaksch.

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