Evening Will Come: A Monthly Journal of Poetics (The Force of What’s Possible—Issue 47, November 2014)

Karla Kelsey

A. As in I once was alone in the forest but for my horse and but for my arrow. Quiver and bow. E. And hearing a voice in the trees and then following. Hello the hunter called, hello my voice calls back. I. Hello I call it is me. O. It is I. O. Hello my voice calls the hunter calls and me and I and I-you and I-you.

And broken, a-e-i, not only from twisting blue ribbon into writing but also from my past body past selves become so very seeming-similar. Boundaries go permeable and autonomy circulates as fictive gesture.

It is not possible to write oneself, to write another, without infusing figure voice rhythm with my body’s own. Even if I apply documentary technique. Even if I deploy a conceptual apparatus designating mirrored glass in place of you, o-you.

Where skin meets air meets fabric meets skin we love we sievy things. Written.

I-you, for when we think we cast an objective eye upon ourselves we are contemplating nothing other than the result of perpetual transaction with others (Nicholas Bourriaud). I-you, for designated as a sea, the Atlantic spanning between us and I say you are the sea, which of course you are not though salt and tidal and churning, a-e. You shadow me you liquidate me you dissipate me writing a form of gone-inland. And then out.

Out, again, we river. I-o.


In an exchange of grammars I view what is before me in your name: Budapest’s Parliament reflecting itself over the Danube, cast iron shoes positioned along the bank where Jews had been lined up and shot. Bodies fallen into the river.

The memorial raises awareness by triggering a false sensation of witness.

Throat-tight, mechanics of the eye reacting to sun-glint off water, mind monologuing details I imagine you would have noticed were you here and o-o and I-you.


A-e. But what is the form of transaction what does writing transfer over the bank counter, wrought iron grille backed by bulletproof glass, marble surface over which I slide dollars in exchange for forints and köszönöm sepen and thank you and nem értem I do not understand. I-o.

To write permeated by gaps.

To write watched by a hundred eyes, tethered to an olive tree, stumbling heavy and floral into the Danube, into the Bosporus, letter-sounds become syllables, syllables become figure become name: Io.


A reaching of nevertheless in the midst of acting and acted upon, impingement and extrusion. Writing a state of relation and passage.

We sound I-you as when I say sea and you say see the shift in color indicating a shift of depth: this is no mere flourish but an outward manifestation of interior reality. A-e.


Representation an act of love.

As fire burning the hand moved far enough toward the object that another hand springs up from the fruit of the flower, from lips, from form reaching out to meet our hand, our lips (Aline Zupančič). A-e. At this moment the hand freezes before the closed fullness of the fruit, the open fullness of the flower. I.

An attempt to blaze, to draw near in the blazing. I-you.


A close-up of hands clutching a red leatherette wallet hands striking a match hands holding my wrists wrapping them with blue ribbon to be written as this.

I, writing a self of incorporation of found text found sound reaching out the lip of the lily compelled by the lily.

Impingement and extension a state of relation as well as passage into pollen-mottled hands. This page stained a-e, stained o.

Representation, to say what is taking what is giving blue ribbon.

No Atlantic between us in memory and in the kitchen your back to the window pants down around your ankles your cock my mouth orchid I orchid o the horizon the line of boats. A-e. The cherry tree half-black with aphids and heavy-heavy blossoms canopy the sleeping dog canopy o home.


Written in centers unfurled, a series of white petals we fall and are fallen into. A-e-i-o.

Written blue ribbon tightening my body to your body through vein, artery, pulse our words orange and lip and blossom. A-e-i-o.

Written standing among a-e, among Oxfords, pumps, loafers, Mary Janes, baby boots cast in iron we do not possess our own vocabularies.

To stand among, in leather shoes, nem értem, for I am only I and nem értem.

Written into these gaps with sonar and graft. With blaze of o and I-you. With self as sound emitted. Resounding back.