from Severance Songs
2.2
What gives? Smoke, a shimmer, less—
a stirrup’s click of meeting, two skins,
rushes. Blind ears seek that beat—
another, another, then a lean, the hush of you.
We are sparks darkly visible, falling together,
just traces of avowal: an I found in E,
the A in barely, a-stray, in just
not quite missing this chance—
outflung sung gesture that you caught, your secret now.
Fallible this radiance, fragile as tuned glass—
you tilt me and I spill unsuspected light,
thrill of parting again into dark.
That which governed me to go about
aches in the new sound between us.
Joshua Corey
from Severance Songs
7.1
Pieces of snow blow down like pieces of tea or
anything - the Lady is over the hill now
blinding all architectures with an aspirin wind -
fake gauze to justify cataracts and the swept arm
over a white field without crispness. Patience played
patience and mumbledy-peg with herself
and the wasp-waisted androgyne Death
wiped the bar while worlds looked busy.
Something too much of this - it's only snow, nothing
you can consume without insides and a fire
to melt your chilling effect. Fitful patterns
form from your eyes' refusal of gesture -
what goes on, we're not looking, we're inclined
analgesically into whiteout conditions of nerve.
Joshua Corey
