Rebecca Teich
Enter
ENT. Course code offers single encrypted figure to provide uninterrupted stream the sudden command to stop in order to not stop punctuates the hours--4, 6, 8, 12, 2 etc--encrypted form stages many kinds of debate entered into this past month--subjectival lack--subjectival gain--past month but also lifetime--is there a way I can enter outside of self propagating mythologization how steeped can I get before I am too strong and must be trashed--do not take me as character or symbol--take me somewhere else entirely-- travel still through track on & spread out go forth & multiply but only in such ways to crassly reproduce myself into another instant, myself variously & multiple across single instant & on out--and also reproduce my waste, sheer trash, the shit of it all, endures how long can I be so coy & piratelike in terms of theft & wear--when everything feels like a voyage but licenseless all the same--when every method of movement encounters the law & enforcement, its figures salt on concrete imposition the track track tracks of movement of course mere days where figure in figure out--
STOP THIS IS NOT AN EXIT
STOP THIS IS NOT AN EXIT
STOP THIS IS NOT AN EXIT
STOP THIS IS NOT AN EXIT
Environment shaping objects-enduring sensate space
Proximity maker jostled back into ways of steeping and wave vocabulary shared against
awakes to get the reimbursement complete the scheme system of ex change things are different now
while while while repetition plugs & circuits bamboozled made. Left out to dry.
Do not network me. Losing lovers means losing books. This is not sentimentality
toward lovers, books, nor allegory. This is threadbare fact. Throng of too hot. I repeat myself
b/c the meaning’s in the rhythm. Attest. Leather archive & fading purple archive fading
perhaps shreds
ENT. Seize instant found deeply place in manic tranquil a spin a glisten to attempt and to say yes impossible feet. I recall, bring to the fore, flat slice of memory and there is a gesture incubating in rehearsal--overcome with guilt and blush for having recalled for having animated outside your will and still I cannot see the otherside through presence is felt. The stuff of dumbstruck fantasy played out quietly--puppeted imaginary figures move touch speak in total silence and invisibility as I move through the simple day. Dynamic motion, kinetic force is felt without its appearance. The thing is not the thing but the implied gesture--I want to go there / will you go there with me. Narrative does not need itself to exist.
Anxious analysis
consumes the
instant frictive moment
and turns it
into a fictive system.
To me,
this is an
intimate sentence.
Stay with me.
ENT. Let me continue this story: Once upon a time, I wanted to be asked questions not so that I could provide an answer but rather to feel the mutual recognition of our agencies. Call and response; ask and here enters the possibility that you can receive, the contingencies of reception. Want want in precise accumulation without hoarding. Redistribute the fruits of desire. A kind of giving that reduces nothing, that is not exchange. There are certain states of being where I will put anything, absolutely anything in my mouth and rarely do I glint with spotlight. Perfect impossible given. I, given over to, and there is no over. At 2am, living amidst my own quietness, I made notes on all kinds of things that one can remember. I remembered memory, my thin-sliced witness. Water pooled after spillage. I let it linger.
ENT. I removed myself to excise my foibles in the same gesture I never perform at karaoke. Sometimes my silence feels mean & sometimes it feels generous.
ENT. Retrodyke tapering archival sewage. I eat the junk by which I mean I indulge outside of nutritional value here’s where the fun begins.
ENT. Desecration works in various ways. Sometimes I am comfortable & open wide eyed slow dive the potential to elide ‘as’ with ‘is’ as if adjacency was truth after all. As if proximity is ever enough to make or leave untouched. Leaves endless impact via passing glance. An enduring almost.
ENT. Quellings at routinized intervals delimit anterior & close eyes & count.
ENT. Analogy is my hard limit, it does not mind the gap.
ENT. Sticky proximities so convoluted you see the saturation, new mutually constitutive construction.
ENT. Today, multiple people spoke only in botanical language.
Try to
tell me
this is
not sustainable.
Show me
what exactly
it is
you are
trying to
sustain.
ENT. Swam wet and in ecstasy I who so rarely moves unperturbed in and by pleasure unfix the sign it will remain misaligned til I identify with how we treat each other in both presence and absence, quart spilled, languid seep, I mostly move too fast so sitting still gives me an elation I, chemical interaction of body with time, chemical interaction of a body saturated with necessary and unseen work with time saturated with unnecessary and rotely-calculate work, hey this all could be reversed but the sopping wet cloth weights heavy and the clothesline sags. Don my unproductive garb. Luxuriate in my detritus home. There are visions of future that flash on. There are visions of future that pulverize my guts. There are visions of future that are visions of past with names and specifics rearranged though nearly barely at all. What I’m getting at. Can’t get at when the the of tomorrow promises against its difference, is this a crisis in lack of imagination. Is this a trembling hand. Is this the sheer cost of arranging ourselves otherwise.
In This Roving House
I don’t form
I gather.
happenstance fixation / and some habits must grow / old and out of
complaint / probing phenomenon / gotten over makes harm’s sway
shame past past / slice of negation of / things just don’t work
lives with not torque / actual instance eliding / an eliding break
the history of
the modern working day.
locked in locked in some / glimmer and logic / so simple it must be true
in the eyes / sudden recognition of a second week endless / an enveloping
description rolling wheels in mud / as task attack / angle toward forward
forward and flailing / turn sub tend / division of worlds
would letter
any letter.
revolution or restorative / conflation intimacy / with genealogy
legal fictive oikos / host host best differences / haunted by disaffection
intensive qualified demand / bare disciplined / but distinct uncanny
ecologies of sensation / attachments otherwise / series ruptural slips out
Rebecca Teich is a writer, editor, and teacher based in New York City. A co-curator of the Fall 2018 and 2019 Segue Reading Series and Artists Space teaching-poet-in-residence, Teich's work has been featured in No, Dear Magazine, poets.org, Nightboat Resonances, The Poetry Project Newsletter, Baest Journal, and elsewhere. A co-founder of The Anchoress Syndicate, a queer poetry and performance collective, Teich’s first chapbook, Caffeine Chronicles (2021), was published by Portable Press @ YoYo Labs.