Lines Supposedly Written Avril 14th

As the day’s edges appear

to slope outward or away, 

we’re beginning to talk past each other.

“The only difference between ‘jet suit’

and ‘Jesuit’ is a question of technique

on how best to ascend”, you say.

In lofty beams, infidel bunches

of boysenberries are beginning to go 

ripe inside the megachurch.

Something thrown is cutting

a wake through a window.

“An orchard is quite like a brain.”

Today, for the first time, you both

‘heard of’ and ‘heard’ a peal of bells,

the terms modulate, attack, release, decay.

I follow you through: every room 

of a Bruce Nauman retrospective;

a ribcage of pews; a sheet of laser

making a canopy over our heads

at an Aphex gig near some docks;

a conversation over pianos.

We’re beginning to talk past each other,

to slope outward, or away,

as the day’s edges appear.