Corner Piece and Cog-WheelDerek Henderson
Combine that which I don’t have with the groove the needle rests in. Then I am nearer & no longer listening— as much as to say my mien is joyous, my amazement a fast-gone thought— water pouring from the watering can in a dispensation of arc— first to author one crocus bud. “O littlest tears in the petal, still you are not enough for death, still unredeemed / The fight of this flower a still thing I cannot argue with. / Empty you carefully, press you back in with thumb & equal pressure. / I circle in the volume that fills an empty room / until one fills it up: fat health, a careful number / among which May is merry” The goal of our play is not to descend— what can one say more briefly in order to be than follow? Certainly, cycle out of hell, out of purgatory— nothing is more circular.
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