BIBLIOBIOTECHNIC IV (EXTANT)
I.
The rogue asked
What is your practice?
so I reversed the practice.
I asked:
What is your practice? Oh, my practice?
the rogue asked me. The thing I? I—I—I reversed
the question and the rogue
said he writes because he writes and
that’s why I write, too, I slapped my head around like
That’s right. Rightness wakes me, like click click click I know
What I am doing now. Except also:
I need a practice and I need my friend: July 8-March 4. (8-4) (88-44) (888-444) (222) (22) (2) (II) (II)
(I) (I) (I) I I I I I. I need (the Aesthetics) of Singularity as (-) I need the logician’s logic of my friend as
(-) I need the logician of logic to point to the place where the valuation of need became a logic: I need
that now, waiting for you (‘you’, out there, there it’s so you you! you). I need ‘this’ now. I know ‘this’
this that doesn’t make the time go. I know it is clunky and it is beautiful. I know
The sound and the sound:
It splits.
When is it never not relevant to go
for ethics? When then again: confessors’
crowns. That. And yet still not at that
hour nor in that company. Typically, or a sound or head.
In company, the lift, unsure not sure when the sound
is sharp, but I do know I have to be more bearable
an object than select objects made me feel:
II.
Critical acuity and destiny: who needs that?
I’m excited to be here. I’m, like, really excited to be here.
Set your heart and quick.
How would a correctable sound sound?
Set your heart and quick.
I am not saying I am not dull and immoral.
I am not saying I am more
than liquid flesh. Red Bull and
A red advert. Chicken sticks.
If theory of mine is mine
I will write with the fluidity of a bird. No heart.
No, the heart was planted and in my body.
I don’t want to vouchsafe everything, but I
(If I vouchsafe you by heaven—)
It is hard to forgo crowned kings
and theorization if you enter the field
as a means to manage yourself. As a means
to manage the project of ‘me’, to manage a projection
(me)
(me)
(me me)
It might be easier
(be)
to make an argument
than consequence with others. Argues
love into me, but fails to argue love. Belief
(into) (into)
when I touched (me), but that was light. The impartiality of light is
the clearest wish to know. This virtue, this epistemic virtue, is not life:
III.
Who spends my life chasing lovers who didn’t love me?
That was
not life that was not me but that was life
not life
that was not me but that life that was not
that was
not that life not that but me not that was
not me
not life not was not that not but
but that.
I am on the beach. Two friends. Scene of a scene. Bridge of a bridge.
I am on a beach (who spends a life chasing lovers
Who didn’t want?). One asks: Did you
Two ever share writing? (That was
The car.) That was a friend. The pace (that
Was) of the bridge thrills me. A pacing pace.
That soda was dull, but
I’m still standing and
Meaning
To read
The reading.
If I know one thing, it has to be
The bridge pointing at the self-solidity
Of motion (there is a ‘solid’ quality to this motion), it’s
The wire razing my thoughts down to their (solid) standard
Or form. There is the bridge. I have to begin without because it was
Not me who chased but another who hadn’t known loss, the future-stretch or test.
I remember: I am going to a party and I am on deadline. Parties are typical. Parties conform
To a form or type. Parties are cool like when clothes, speech, drinks, food, ‘engagement’, siblings,
friends (‘friends’), boyfriends, girlfriends, partners, smarts, sins, cats
Otherwise dead. There was nothing for me there. I went home to write.
On the beach,
Two friends. Not a party
But a sound. A party has sound,
But not this sound. It is not the integrity
Of this sand on my friend. It is not the car going.
It is not the party, which has no less than one problem.
The rogue asked
What is your practice?
so I reversed the practice.
I asked:
What is your practice? Oh, my practice?
the rogue asked me. The thing I? I—I—I reversed
the question and the rogue
said he writes because he writes and
that’s why I write, too, I slapped my head around like
That’s right. Rightness wakes me, like click click click I know
What I am doing now. Except also:
I need a practice and I need my friend: July 8-March 4. (8-4) (88-44) (888-444) (222) (22) (2) (II) (II)
(I) (I) (I) I I I I I. I need (the Aesthetics) of Singularity as (-) I need the logician’s logic of my friend as
(-) I need the logician of logic to point to the place where the valuation of need became a logic: I need
that now, waiting for you (‘you’, out there, there it’s so you you! you). I need ‘this’ now. I know ‘this’
this that doesn’t make the time go. I know it is clunky and it is beautiful. I know
The sound and the sound:
It splits.
When is it never not relevant to go
for ethics? When then again: confessors’
crowns. That. And yet still not at that
hour nor in that company. Typically, or a sound or head.
In company, the lift, unsure not sure when the sound
is sharp, but I do know I have to be more bearable
an object than select objects made me feel:
II.
Critical acuity and destiny: who needs that?
I’m excited to be here. I’m, like, really excited to be here.
Set your heart and quick.
How would a correctable sound sound?
Set your heart and quick.
I am not saying I am not dull and immoral.
I am not saying I am more
than liquid flesh. Red Bull and
A red advert. Chicken sticks.
If theory of mine is mine
I will write with the fluidity of a bird. No heart.
No, the heart was planted and in my body.
I don’t want to vouchsafe everything, but I
(If I vouchsafe you by heaven—)
It is hard to forgo crowned kings
and theorization if you enter the field
as a means to manage yourself. As a means
to manage the project of ‘me’, to manage a projection
(me)
(me)
(me me)
It might be easier
(be)
to make an argument
than consequence with others. Argues
love into me, but fails to argue love. Belief
(into) (into)
when I touched (me), but that was light. The impartiality of light is
the clearest wish to know. This virtue, this epistemic virtue, is not life:
III.
Who spends my life chasing lovers who didn’t love me?
That was
not life that was not me but that was life
not life
that was not me but that life that was not
that was
not that life not that but me not that was
not me
not life not was not that not but
but that.
I am on the beach. Two friends. Scene of a scene. Bridge of a bridge.
I am on a beach (who spends a life chasing lovers
Who didn’t want?). One asks: Did you
Two ever share writing? (That was
The car.) That was a friend. The pace (that
Was) of the bridge thrills me. A pacing pace.
That soda was dull, but
I’m still standing and
Meaning
To read
The reading.
If I know one thing, it has to be
The bridge pointing at the self-solidity
Of motion (there is a ‘solid’ quality to this motion), it’s
The wire razing my thoughts down to their (solid) standard
Or form. There is the bridge. I have to begin without because it was
Not me who chased but another who hadn’t known loss, the future-stretch or test.
I remember: I am going to a party and I am on deadline. Parties are typical. Parties conform
To a form or type. Parties are cool like when clothes, speech, drinks, food, ‘engagement’, siblings,
friends (‘friends’), boyfriends, girlfriends, partners, smarts, sins, cats
Otherwise dead. There was nothing for me there. I went home to write.
On the beach,
Two friends. Not a party
But a sound. A party has sound,
But not this sound. It is not the integrity
Of this sand on my friend. It is not the car going.
It is not the party, which has no less than one problem.
-
Katherine Franco is the author of Displays (Pilot Press, 2023). Her work has appeared in Social Text, ZYZZYVA, MUBI Notebook, Jacket2, Chicago Review, and elsewhere.
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