Appearing in another enclosure I slipped over to avoid it taking the inland route along the
river. Initially it felt entropic, that they simply weren't trying hard enough. Weaving
behind the chorale were irritating myths against a skyline policy, crashing and burning in
low lying areas. Staying in the squint of it. Dislocated and falling, we seem to agitate
around the notion of being swept away.
Time passed to stick with the immediate
questions expect impressions to reveal
a long track of arguments, circumscribed, flood continental mountains, to announce: this
is your style. In the moon stages there will be waves of the old things. Dreams,
intervals. The words lay waiting.
How could I have been persuaded when they were merely presenting masterpieces.
Solfatara: look up. Running with desert conclusions are the expanded intensities, even
in roles that feature how you felt. Out of my mind, unable to sleep, my eyelids shut for
the duration of local heavy falls in the shallow zone, itself not verifiable, not A or not A.
White noise is steady in the middle of the night.
Drowned river valleys float through the net
and land here. It was 4 and a half months before the 2 week wait for arrival, a loose
period. The clue it seemed: they were using sign language, booking a theatre we were
swamped and the moment passed. And why not: loves, lovers, losing. Does it throw up
anything but itself again? I insert myself, a tourist. You censor all those pleasures you
translate into your embrace. Dismasted and rudderless a huge vogue wave in the teeth
of the storm defines a heartbreak.
If certain previously
unimagined textual elements
are planted in a life's sentence
where matter and energy are fused, let them remind you of words you have used all your
life. Diffuse pollution becomes unrecognisable in natural waterways, stored in the
riverbeds. Run and don't get weary retracing your primitive scrawl. We know that Saturn
is the only evening planet easy to locate at dusk.
I held another sky and emptied out the future
Title: Not talking To You: Pages That Follow.
Copyright ©2006 by Alison Georgeson.
Born in Seattle, Alison Georgeson spent time in London, and has lived in Perth, Australia for the past 10 years. She teaches creative writing at the University of Techonology in Perth.