god and pain have the same god
no great turtle
to straighten
the dead
no
not here
in Ohio
an Ohio
that eats
its weight
in spiders
an Ohio
of slow
obsessions
effortless
sorrows
a lifejacket
on fire
a pebble
named
after blood’s
ear
a thunderclap
the late
crawl
of a dizzy
child
in the mother’s dream
a brother and a sister
watch a movie
without a name
a movie that between them
is called
This Is Not
A Dream
there’s no one
in the movie
water holds an animal
and sometimes
there are buildings
that buildings
describe
death gets to name every baby but its own
mostly this movie is about what I don’t want to see in a movie
–
son is trying to hold behind his ear a slice of orange (however long you think a day is
his hands are by it
getting smaller
–
talent doesn’t keep God awake
–
what the angel does with its half of the caterpillar…
(is it still
all about
location
the shop
of your
forgetting
a raindrop
trapped
in ankle’s
dream
Poetry Against All
a diary
Johannes Göransson
Tarpaulin Sky Press, 2020
~
I am no expert and have little idea what to say about impossible books. Johannes Göransson’s Poetry Against All is one such book. Is many such books. Little idea does not mean I can be quiet. What is impossible? A safe child. A coroner who disappears to plan simple kidnappings for the elaborately still. I continue. I stop. Göransson keeps this diary alive. Fossil porn. A more exact resurfacing. Some things poke through; holes in movies, a mask thrown from a moving dream, a photograph taken by a hand. I don’t know how this draws, but know I am drawn. But am also, surrounded. Held and carried. I might have it backward. Some prenatal eternity, some austere intercourse, some uprooted sickness ghosted by certain immunities unique to the tourist’s stunt double. I have only recently forgotten how to…
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a birthmark the shape of a bird’s cough
inside of which a wound
is bidding
on a shadow…
I don’t know when sleep became the movie I put on to fall asleep.
children are the past.
i.
sleep became sleep when it missed its audition for death. what keeps a mouth in place? think loneliness, say dream.
ii.
what the ghost does over and over is bring suicide into the story of angel.
iii.
when you have no one, creation devours your discovered hungers.
eat fast, and let god believe.
I don’t think it was ever a child, my body. more a changing loneliness. a thing dreaming of its planet while being held or not being held by a thing distracted by a comet. this is how I worry that what I’m reading is elsewhere beautiful to others. I die and you know or you don’t. I pray of course that in the stomachs of the ghost and the angel the same spiderweb is found, but longing is a mirror that looks itself to sleep.
kingsoftrain 