“to write against the ghost”
–Susan Howe
I am simply more nothing
to be overlooked, an absence
to be removed, like a hole
filled with fresh corpses,
then coyly landscaped
into an ubiquitous green calm,
easily assuaged and forgotten.
I speak in simple tongues
without need of translation:
such is my metaphor,
eraser crumbs brushed
aside without consequence.
Lost in the muck of language,
I claw across my margins’
sharp fractal edges, then fade.
(April 3, 2018)
subtext 