Dictionary of Insolid Things
To JA

 

Outside the cries,
enter the sanctum
remembering
how capitalizing
a Word can
lend a certain
Effect, in places.

Certain places
that take courage
to enter, like cries
outside or a double
sun rising as reflected
in glass covering
an artwork. A
viewpoint,

an accidental one,
in the way a poem
contains accidents
in that accidents
are collisions
sparking some

sort of action: whether
that be whatever
it be. Air is a series
of collisions, you
are a collision, the
sun is nothing but
collision. And I

am writing this for
you, a master of
collision, allowing it,
composed, always
interested, how
things just wrong
can be so just
right—in their

indeterminate,
inexplicable
Strangeness. You
spoke to that.
Of it. Not just
words, but a lot
of them, and all
the meanings
they can hold.
Held until. Until
what? Until they
are read. And
then held until
again. That is
a sort of ending
that is peaceful
yet ongoing. You
are ended but not
quite because I
and others go on
with words and
a poem, this
poem, written in
front of the spider
plants propagating
on my desk, more
spider plants
both in the pots
and on the desk
everywhere you
gave me. More
earth added to.
Newspaper and
coffee in special
mug, the special
one. I come
back around to
the beginning.
This is what
I wrote first
after hearing
of endings,
Endings.

 

Contributor

Marcella Durand

MARCELLA DURAND's new chapbook, Rays of the Shadow, is out this fall from Tent Editions.

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