Dear made unoccupied like the push west in violent history space, the newest issue of Umass Amherst's grand adhesive going jubilat is out, which has homed some fantastic poets, friends, cholos, odds + ends.
Since they do the thing where you have to buy an issue to read any of the poems - or sit inside the Belmont University Library for a couple of hours taking notes, pretending you're one of them - here it is (sent feeling great about its form and pace, tonal withdrawal, but in the crawling time since it appeared, began to feel it drab):
Jisei
Trees’ grey.
Head
of shade
nod
its end
into
finish.
This first
descending is the middle,
temples elder &
paper.
Sleep has
your pieces of
at
which
this currency
of years flattens beneath
the same attentions, body.
City, & let so.
Face
of your
head of away as
the front of the body is
away. Show given.
Reckon an end contain
me still, change
fell. This nor, &
shapes
vasted
it ground.
Curled pollen out behind
horizon
blind &
holding the money
away
became glad with others.
Saw denim
scaffolding up the
skeleton,
will of the earth for more
earth.
How
unending
the bone shore fine,
here is
where is a finite we
hold the image
of a man holding
a smaller man upside down,
just
pouring
the hysterical body
out of, &
onto its
places.
Are you room
does
not home, I embrace
siblings that shade
a shade closing very
loosely
onto its own figure
the table around me,
Hands left in dreams,
as
in snow.
Traced only direction of
circle with ends
of an almost burning stick.
The still, specific, & saying be
vacated for.
Fold, terrible canopy
flow
a sun that
earths some glass
between us
please,
lean away
each others’ temple scald.
Face is the one spreading
shadow
from its middle. Unface.
The only responsibility of
blue
is now the
red,
an island has a long
line of us
a beach, of something.
Here
only is good.