Export: Writing the Midwest

 

Mark DuCharme

 

The Center of Reflection

Punk marked under
Neath the sheer
Blown gaskets like I rocked

In a converting motion
Through hesitancy & sail, leapfrogging
Toward tougher clangs & brackets

Of nothing that is not
Revoked
(Impelled) implied until it creases what we’d snatch

To resist practical necking
Under a lightsocket, a parasite hamper
Toward what excludes, this summer

Driven toward imperfect strain
As if reaching for more tape
Than the laundromat can supply

Though the ability to supply is not
In question— it’s surrounded
It is also now summarily detained

Right, except to not look out how
Stand still, or root out the light circuits
Sitting in for, lest we’d smoke

It’s as if we’re only here inventing
The history of a portion
Or inventing a part of the history of what’s staged

Now it’s all used up, up to you
Writing so as not to use up paper
It’s a dead giveaway

Some bits of folding— lest we stroke
So that it comes out undescribed
To risk extending, like an unmarked heresy extender

Remaining thou inverted or deterred
While we continuously freshen up all the morons
Liking uses of what’s now deterred

Extorted not revolt

 

lemongrass, dewlarks, full draught of, fall thud

Upon a hemisphere of chalk
What increasingly grows strange
Acting in a kind of rented awe
Not necessarily towards a finale
Of cold particulars, which stood up-
right
The long goodbye
Grew slightly spoiled
Assimilated, under the heavens
Where a kind of freak song rose
Rising, from under the terraces
Where I began to shout
He said, no you didn’t
All of which was fine
To begin shooting anyone—
Please don’t go assembling, or I might cough
Like anything else already warned

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