he said what is awesome is that everything functions. the terror of it all. a god in decline pining over
sweaty plutocracies/ever increasing unities
functioning faster toward a certain death derailed by the promise of metal and screws./i want
someone to intervene in the disorder of things
it’s not a gravity/less flag but a massive shift in perspective not made possible by technologies that
drive and derive from this endless functioning.
he wants a radical rupture/a messianic promise/a futurity determined by tradition but tradition is
never a singular sign extended to a force outside us
tradition contains its own felt histories/which multiply and wash over petrified containers of
words. of wounds.
there are others, speaking/but they do not require his ear to interpret. they weigh their own
meanings./he dreams of another symbolic system that never sacrifices its own
but his language is too functional. it records a presumption that one can master time or transcend
its grip/and everything keeps functioning. cannot be stopped.
everything functional assumes too much.
Alison Reed’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in several journals including Skin to Skin, Cactus Heart, Femme Dreamboat, and So to Speak, and she was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She is pursuing her PhD in English at the University of California, Santa Barbara, where she is taking a brief respite from the city life she longs for.