Jane Joritz Nakagawa – Evil Nature (3)

Jane Joritz Nakagawa

Evil Nature (3)

… lithosphere                   (cloudy in the    shopping                                    mall) blepharism,                                                             lithospheric bepharospasm                             (wait while i go          ….             to hell                                    with (you…)                   half expecting a baby                                                     sort of translucent melody (act of translucent beauty) ….emblematic clouds…                           translucent body cloud                           badly parented cloud could fragrant, fragrant, chameleon clouds…          (next to a sullen                  Xmas wreath) in a slumber                                             (… although it was fire ant …mating season) … antique distraction …no need for self direction          You mean like an antique —-?          Yes, exactly          Having become a character in a novel, like the man with peeling fingers who                   touched mine?          In a manner of speaking.          How will you approach (distortion)                   Filmed with (deleted)                  …crimes you plan                  …subsequent mercy                  …subsequent memory                  …turned into fodder …effacement                           cloud with typing mistakes becoming could           dogmatic grass                           without resorting to trees           having become a character in a novel …she is so dead after all                                                     (…surreal lives rejected you….)          space that intrudes          interval disrupts          to stop the erection          halt the clouds                   missing spaces (hole in the sentence…) my hole…. intravenous heaven          sermon          (someone needed                      in the control room…) cereal munching cloud                                         serial killing cloud          i leave you the field          i betroth you to… (waiting for …. cry…) “i heard a loud sobbing sound which was my own” translucent impulse          “intense clinging”                           in the conceptual air                           clouds with speech impediments                                          “thin existence” events were like extremists                                   …which i read aloud to myself but                                   only subvocally, with incomplete                                   candor                                   the candle maker, embroidered with                                   all consuming self-care: that’s what                                   i plan to …                                   to be embroidered into the                                   surface of the newly transparent cloud, rendered                                   this way                                   waxy like substance, substitute                                   for grief                                   inserted into the quote “oh do let me                                  …. you”  …. reply, though                                   forthcoming ….. isn’t… to be embossed by the                                                             usual suspects, untoward candor usual snapshots                                  darkening resolve rebuilt candescently.  the condescending reply           of the government, embroidered with all consuming self service.   to be enveloped in wax                   is close to that feeling, i mean. (subvocal snapshot rendered into substitution) or everyone is…                           maybe so cheerful                           maybe so real                           globe tilted the wrong way                           must be the reason for the                           imbalance in wealth…                           (please grow a new limb)                           —Chuck D explains white men’s culture          —on the bag of the young japanese girl on the train is written                                            music ecology earth grow a new limb, meanwhile                   (i grew up on a farm myself.  hid among cows.  rolled in hay…) “true love” cloud i wish to empty my machine gun into          (stones mere stones, truth falls like rocks on your head) sidestepping this point for the moment, hopscotch cloud where one          must be careful of one’s footing…                           but i don’t really have the necessary                           self                           sacrifice without ideas there are still words.  the words are still.   you move around them. they don’t fight back. in your polite body.  “Oh” the sounds of “it.” in the body. heavens help those, do, who. a hand in the bird worth 2 hands in the bird soup. (slipping into a flat field of words)                                                                            On my birthday i compose a                                                                            greeting to myself.  Dear jane                                                                            ur not 1/2 as bad as people                                                                            say ur only twice as.  now ur                                                                            twice as old as u were                                                                            a half life ago.  isn’t 1/2 as                                                                            bad as i remembered it, only                                                                            slightly worse.  Im 1/2 as rich                                                                            as.  blah blah…a fraction of                                                                            that… and the air! hypnotic! funerals queue up.         predictably mundane sky                           be grateful for the backyard noise                           the dew is tangled           emancipatory cloud strategy (a kind of ornamental menstruation) oh mad disciplinarian!                                    in our wounded beauty setting fire to the library                                    off fastidiously decorating our nests                                    clouds natter… living in an aftermath           (pieces which never come together)                                    Like polite conversation Increasing the blue around us,                                    hopeful activity                                            (please follow the argument to its end!)                           Whose sentiment that was? i used to believe                          …. safely reached their destinations                                                                             and propaganda (a kind of linoleum quaintness) with only our chaos to guide us         large antenna obscuring the view taste the            forgetfulness             you once were          oh death squad!          toxic tools symbolizing completion (without the disintegration)                   brave suicide.  noise from across the room. the                           concentration it took.                                                             which i had recently learned. finally giving up, blades of grass, mountains far away…                                  cloud censors you, grass stifles you while inventing the                                  story                                  hierarchy                                  armies                                  oncoming noise As a kind of blinkered portraiture. Who is speaking for us, among the colonized clouds…                                                    A vigilant approach to time and space                        Prolonged history of vengeance discourse controlled by the          detours of language placed on a scale of value                           dotting the horizon                                                                               trees disproving reason                           via symbolic substitute rapidly becoming intervention feeling slightly nuts, (cows in the grass) reason in the world, without.          vision that would be kept          version that would be kept down          suppurated “splendor of your waste”                                                                   “fallen into disuse” spotty complexion sky pirouetting sky          terrible enfant how now not vomiting                                    in the billowing grass                                                                                       urine stained sky hysterical disgruntled trees how now not looking would be sky, why does … it …. take forever ….. to move the clouds? how now not singing a tune plastic orgasm, despair on the front steps, feelings by remote control battlefield with the [drugs] in it    feelings i can[not] control…

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