Page 87 - Mistranslation Laboratory: An Unfolding

The elbow of a giant fan-crane in a Japanese watercolour, Spirited Away? She dreams of
a sky train and, once in the
sky, gently rotates, gently shakes, a perspex window unfolding, finding the opposing fingertips, again the fan
circles inside the
bones of the fibres of the fascia in the spine, & gently reclines.
a leaky initiation
catching in the undertow
psoas muscle drawn again, the
line, the crease the reach the
ledge of grace finds
dust and deer and, oh!,
life! It’s always an intangible measurement, & something is always open,
always breathing.
Pocket. Drawer. Partial tip open. The small smash. The organ of skin is toughest at the feet. Paddle count. Wag the brittle pause. Pocket it all.
Brush the implement of your weight. Brush its mechanisms of difference into the hands
of time.
There were seeds hatching foil roots in her hands. They found the sky’s limit.
The singular sensation. A televised light.
This desire for sprawl. It’s how the city sings its edges and then
find the tiny plantling.
The centre of a
moving, drifting, cascade
has an electrical voice, it balances in the tired edges of inspiration. You hold the flight-vertabrae, designed
for flying, in these air-
filled bones. You touched
yesterday so carefully,
with your fingertips,
and your feet remembered.