Three Poems by Jane Gregory - Believer Magazine
×

Three Poems by Jane Gregory

by Jane Gregory
March 16th, 2018

 

EACH WAVE’S A CURVE TO WHAT DOESN’T BODY IT                [PROFICES]

Silly, first you’re clay then your face, Sissy, for it[’]s net animates         [it’s noose]
the neck, the cloth the marble it came upon. No, the door opens
to the edge /of the cliff and a figure climbs a tree felled by the sea.
The tree is a hole
in the world like a twisted fan, everything we see between. The seed
is in its stump, the s between reason and treason. They crawl
on the table through and up the brush and their fingers hold everything
like a trigger, [w]rung to ringing sound. And there is a little one who
carries a blanket to forbear the dawn, and waves.

PROFICES                                                                                                [each committee]

everything is wrecked just fine but how do you know the raven to be no mirror to
the leaf

leafy shadow through which you know whatever you know

that nothing happens to

i know it was special for you, world, but I always have to go for I am the lung of the bio
sphere

and nondiscursive truth

yay, so toil, smart women be mean, my brain, refuse all work that makes more for others

my brain, obstinate failure of thought to escape itself, i am, bearable self, begun by the light

of the sky we are driven against, the sky, under which

each committee covers his feet in my house

each committee comes to cover his feet in my house

PROFICES                                                                            [All they will carry is weight]

Nothing is all [—and the matter—] that gets away                                      [away ok]
is all that what / the dead can’t drive
and whatlike        the dead
with which

I’m lousy / like what
is known / or as the known
and what the known is / told
to say gets a- / way to stay                                                                           [ok]

riven, ruled, driven                                                                                              [drooled]

To stay what is a way [drooled] against
nothing, or a way to say
nothing over and over, different ways

Nothing whose indifference matters to me
is built before the scheme and its transposition
in neon, [the schmeme], a no between
now and never—Shhhht.

—Man I don’t need

a micrograph         to tell me
it looks like            what it feels like,
page,           break,            Drugs.

Though often I have felt a little weird

about the light and party to which it

would come, it is everything                                                                         [, will come,]

and sponsors its own ungetting

like autumn, autumn and its every miscreant,

(my friends),

[Now that if we think of something they can de
-finitely make it we can  think of nothing at  all,
but we can’t think of it without thinking of what                                                                   isn’t in it, and they can’t unmake  nothing  et al]

My friends,

Help, fizzle my unbelief
until it bows, send a rainbow
around the lens, a tank in its halo                                                                   [to govern]

To govern-bent the coven
-ant but still, there
is something whose halo
is a collar for the world

Too remote to view
and the trouble
I’m having [,] processing, too

No visions, just what follows                                        [—what way and does wait—]

Them, My Friends, and even today

All they will carry         is weight

 

More Reads
Uncategorized

An Interview with Gabriela Garcia

Yvonne Conza
Uncategorized

Made of Earth

Gina Rae La Cerva
Uncategorized

An Interview with Larissa Pham

Adalena Kavanagh
more