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Michael Anania 
"par la lumière naturelle"
I. in or among the gray unsettling consequence of things-- "did you sigh just then or simply move your arm across fresh linen?" splash of pigment, chrome yellow, surely accidental, though so much of our sense of things will ultimately depend upon it, we will certainly suppose varying degrees of intention--"you think you could maybe let me see inside, just once"--that is if one thing depicts, then any other thing might just as well, burnt sienna or carmine red, ultra-marine blue, as certain a source as anyone might imagine, quicksilver trails, the crystal fray that marks invisible passages; quick! quick! a lantern among bonfires, flake white moths threading nervous light, powdery paradiso; "I mean, as long as we´re here amid the locust trees" nd the shadows are all falling in the same general direction, there must be a tune that contains this, a box step we can count our way through together, something to catch the instant and turn it back our way, feints of cursive red neon across wet pavement, the hum- drum inevitability of truck tires, uneven carbon residues across concrete II. "uncertain of all," the lapsed time so finely calibrated that even the shaky false leaves opening, unsheathed translucent stem snaking toward the light, have numbers they play at, and confirm, bits of soil tumbling slowly backward; day by day, conformation, things, that is, becoming themselves; "how is it color seems to matter," qualities that eventually adhere, masses of leaves and summer darkly weighing; she said, as others had certainly, "reckoning with consequences," meaning the processes of reasoning, or was it the mind at play, flowers trembling against their buds, liquid now, now solid, the simplist of equations unformed and brushed across some waiting green; the bristles´ chance impressions in fresh paint catch the afternoon light, petal on petal petalling; imagine, that is, the rose, its string of re-animated photographs played in among a desire for roses, torqued upward into the descending intention of color however casually chosen, and what is said in time is always temporal, hence song and dance swaying from axis to axis, words like gauds spun and spinning
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