after a poem by Eileen Tabios
Drowning begins at the point a person is unable to keep their mouth to themselves. Consciousness is usually lost within three minutes of submersion. I dove into a submerged cockpit and removed the pilot. We break apart in mid-air, scattering survivors. 8 MOST SCARY WATER RIDES (LOST ARM). Cycles of compressions and ventilations. Recovery syncope. The first waves lapped tentatively against the side of the ship. Head, neck, axilla, and inguinal region, for the most part; 50% lost. Recover lost function, his holly whip, and all his skill. Owlet, the newspaper changed its mind.
I’ve forgotten something? Those rabbit fur linings, an episode of cooking without metaphor. Ricotta, iCloud. restriction, blueberries, you in combination with other foods. You are my thesaurus, my safe, a recipe from Zionsville, a cake factory crisis, an experiment in bowls, frozen vegetables from Japan, fluffy sushi zojirushi. Both babies and stoves for sale. Krispies treats, a Toyota pudding, scratch radiology. Let’s read eggs instead of books now. Cast iron mignon, brown rice funerals, flirtini disasters. Flirtomatic reverse polarity, an example of libel. Ithaca and its Italian translation. Withlacoochee River Electric. Win a dream home. It becomes a teacup every night. Your sign, except metal. It’s lucky for you Cocoa Puff, and your deductible spiders. Lingerie photoshoot ideas for women + live auctioneers.
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What no one said was, “That plaid dress with Christmas trees on it looks great on you. I could put up more pictures of me in very bad Christmas dresses, sweaters. The puffed paint was there.
One-eyed Fan: My eye got torn out, and force-fed to me in the snow.
You’re a fucking tree-trimmer.
How the movement of the body can make the mind feel things.
I forgot the song name but know the lyrics, Tooth Fairy. You stink three in the pink. The thesaurus wraps us in its passwords. Monetary policy. Socks hung to dry on an angular chair. Press the stars and drink. Clarity, alacrity. Crane spirits. The sturdy ox odyssey. Automatics, optical process. Fry a marriage (so close to “mirage”), this sumdog and salt it. There will be many grand chapters. Let us be meat detectives. In white mountain shoes. The walking dead actors warmup exercise. Water girl and fire boy. Filters. Speakers.
Without much pain, he tires out his tongue on certain half-forgotten intonations and phrases. A street in the moonlight, maiden language all over it. They did not appreciate staying long in these open dialects. Cut the ends of the hair at the new moon, and it will grow better. We have been protesting at Jantar Mantar, at India Gate, and we have waited for so long.
Use this stroke to swim underwater, through oil or debris, or in rough seas. While sailing through a night time storm, a “freak wave” and “peculiarly happy.” With little wind, ships lay stagnant for days. The discovery of eddies. The goal was to test the usefulness of genomic shotgun sequencing. A species of clam consumed the entire ship. He discovered that the water, which Magellan named Mar Pacifico, made sailors quite lost. They became limited emergencies. Killer whales on valium – a common practice? Hands deep again, a flat calm. The ocean suddenly recites itself in his head, despite its vast extent, behaves like a conductor of limited dimensions. Shop outside the big box. I have a mission to fight sea monsters to receive 250 sand-dollars but how can I expand past 10 lost rubies? Sea dye is limited, use when recovery is likely. Use only Himalayan salt, Celtic sea salt or real salt, not processed table salt. Dense forests of deep-sea corals are suspension feeders. My Fijian is limited to bula (hello) and vinaka (thank you). Graduated markings. The best clocks at the time lost 10 minutes a day. Calm conditions are rarely recorded.
Year = a custom so old that its beginnings are lost in the fog of time. And he emphasized them, the longer calyx lobes have white-bordered green or red inches, long and as wide, the corollas pink, lavender or blue, the burden in the hole which we previously had prepared for it, and watered it generously.
Brown-red silky bracts, Nile-green within, support a pale green calyx.
Behind the watering pot become green bedizened footmen, who immediately jump.
The slow harvest has the above-named valley.
A premature form of holy fasting. The complex folds of the drapery, easily visible at a distance. Such works originally functioned as liturgical objects: rum, the artist clothes her breasts and shifts.
Someone believed in a fairy tale. Photography as a tool of alienation. Invisible organism-like textures emerge and point to the notions of decay and symbiosis. ‘At the end of its functional arc’ and edging into the slow process of decay, the site, that aura of secrecy, catastrophe and desolation, gets lost in the feedback loop. He lost account of time. He was present on estranged structures. An adrenaline enhanced experience I’ll never forget by using multiple exposures. I’m getting paid in Trident Layers—delicious layers of flavor. A billboard with a pictorial throughout. I didn’t see the beginning act, Stench of Decay, due to overlap in my tactical schedule, as the blasphemy and discord of tearing down layers of ignorance and the delivered set that surprised the fuck out of us. Into the top of a closet and all but forgotten instead of spread over someone’s bed engulfed in a crude occult, scooping off a layer of the sap and plucking a tiny piece of trimmed vine. You cannot let yourself forget again.
Instruments such as flutes and flageolets were made of bird bones and hollow reeds. Bamboo, river cane, bone, copper, ceramic. Today we are surrounded by innumerable hollow objects, to which we pay no attention. A single chambered ducted, the Tobacco-pipe Fish, has the facial bones prolonged into a tube. To become hollow like a pipe or reed. He took the hollow bone of a griffon vulture, carved five holes in it. The rectangular billets become smooth, round, hollow cylinders. This is the only surviving image of the artifact, which has since been lost. The hollow place in which a gem is set. We found ourselves in an endless maze of flutes. At least half of the kayaks had holes in them—they were made of forgotten passwords.
Please. Place me in the sky as a constellation.
I had a perfect iron mark on my table. Add me to your list of success stories. I forgot the vintage pull-down school map with brass workings. Sitting at her kitchen table, dressed in a simple gray outfit, you not only used me tenderly, but you actually polished mahogany, whose face had become solemn, fixed on a spot on the central floor. Simon Bolivar Chandeliers: a functional cure for uncompromising belief.
The fetishization of writing, an enacted human practice. Under sun the dead are forgotten, their dust wings, the tall building surrounded by their vacuum. Any kind of error destroys that error. She dissolves. They actually died without noticing it. (2) feeling that you are flying, (3) lost time, (4) seeing unusual lights. Are visible. The history of the Roman Empire or the politics of “Paradise Lost?” I lost count somewhere around 20, along the dark cornices. Truth, a vaccination, lacks lyricism, is hyperspatial. The disconnect like an ardent number.
Don’t forget to remove flashy jewelry and watches. More often than not, they just scream and run away. Forget about likes and dislikes. They are lost birds, different hallways. The sweat thing—I will never forget that. If they see that you have fallen in love with someone they are selling, or remember the lost art of letter writing. Haggle Level 20: Deeprun Tram Haggle is a level 20 leper gnome. When you’re trading someone, there is often the perception that you’ve lost confidence in them. I absolutely love slot machines, but only in Las Vegas. Several bolts of silk were screaming. I forgot to unpack my vignettes.
Anne Gorrick is a writer and visual artist. She is the author of seven books of poetry including most recently: My Beauty is an Occupiable Space (a collaboration with John Bloomberg-Rissman, forthcoming in 2018 from Paloma Press); An Absence So Great and Spontaneous it is Evidence of Light (forthcoming in 2018 from the Operating System); and The Olfactions: Poems on Perfume (BlazeVOX Books, 2017). She collaborated with artist Cynthia Winika to produce a limited edition artists’ book, “Swans, the ice,” she said, funded by the Women’s Studio Workshop in Rosendale, NY and the New York Foundation for the Arts. She also co-edited (with poet Sam Truitt) In|Filtration: An Anthology of Innovative Writing from the Hudson River Valley (Station Hill Press, 2016).
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