Artikel
AIR TERMINALS
12 maart 2013
for Sandeep Parmar
‘…I dreamed
of a page in a book containing the word bird and I
entered bird.’
Anne Carson, ‘Gnosticism I’
Reading how Mansfield claims the word air
is to live in it.
Pure scheme vs. science anxiety.
Not the duck of a boy emphatic
nor the rich-leaning Rosemary,
more a chance to inhabit
adrenal pressure—
six hours of braided sky
pushed through cloud braille.
*
How to steady up when all at once
air batches you out to crash phobias,
night after night,
wing tensions grazing your head?
*
Small curve of trust in a child’s joy at architecture.
At the terrorist check
threshold and counter-threshold—
a sparrow’s fear of total sunlight,
a studious approach to Boeing assemblies.
*
Carefully your ration array of clothes
checked in tight folds touches
and is how air means,
clipped around the roots of a hand
as you look back gesturing—
once twice finally.
*
Air as the steadying of addiction:
how to breathe as the shadow dips?
Air-guides to breakers at the logic gate
the perfect crime, always getting away.
Evidences in landing vapour—
the movement of my hand on your back that says
‘go’.
*
The route I take I take on foot,
afraid and tenderly loyal.
At the ventilation tunnel
the smooth saturation of air vocals,
every tenor, decorous.
Your flaunting of altitude
is strictly west-hugging.
How the difference tells?
There was a cold bitter taste in the air
and the new-lighted lamps looked sad.
‘…I dreamed
of a page in a book containing the word bird and I
entered bird.’
Anne Carson, ‘Gnosticism I’
Reading how Mansfield claims the word air
is to live in it.
Pure scheme vs. science anxiety.
Not the duck of a boy emphatic
nor the rich-leaning Rosemary,
more a chance to inhabit
adrenal pressure—
six hours of braided sky
pushed through cloud braille.
*
How to steady up when all at once
air batches you out to crash phobias,
night after night,
wing tensions grazing your head?
*
Small curve of trust in a child’s joy at architecture.
At the terrorist check
threshold and counter-threshold—
a sparrow’s fear of total sunlight,
a studious approach to Boeing assemblies.
*
Carefully your ration array of clothes
checked in tight folds touches
and is how air means,
clipped around the roots of a hand
as you look back gesturing—
once twice finally.
*
Air as the steadying of addiction:
how to breathe as the shadow dips?
Air-guides to breakers at the logic gate
the perfect crime, always getting away.
Evidences in landing vapour—
the movement of my hand on your back that says
‘go’.
*
The route I take I take on foot,
afraid and tenderly loyal.
At the ventilation tunnel
the smooth saturation of air vocals,
every tenor, decorous.
Your flaunting of altitude
is strictly west-hugging.
How the difference tells?
There was a cold bitter taste in the air
and the new-lighted lamps looked sad.
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