Elizabeth Block

Cramped (A Series)

multitudes of them

paint lovely me, a women tea with cup to sit at
“romantic like a merry-go-round heard across far fields”

to make sense of things

a body

how do you name it?

[“the very idea that one might get at the
essence of form, at the essence of meaning
in some mathematical/configured sense, and
thus to the basis of cognition/thoughts as the
mathematics is part of the mystique of the
electronic environment”]

there would be no more music

mouths parted
legs piled high

The room stirred nothing in the drawing—--
staircase The: Or on the, or in the room—--
dining, hinges, rusty through the moistened—--
sea and swollen, airs, woodwork certain—--
from detached, the body the wind (ramshackle
was the house all after) round crept corners,
indoors; keyholes in creeping: dahlias, disappear.

Ominous sounds summer, blows, measured
like hammers, jack, on felt, still shocks
repeated, loosened, further the shawl and
tinkled the cups- tea, crackled, glass in the
cupboard: voice a shrieked, not to agonize the
tumblers left there too, this incomplete, my belief
vibrated [an exploded shell]: day-mid, plain.

Leopard skins among lolloping torches, red
thus gold brought light into suddenly size
possessed and depth hills climbed, thought: she
go down: valley delete pleasure eyes feasted
fruit plates, plunged, bloomed a broke off there
tasseled, returned and hived, looking different
(brought them momentarily): sympathy, twilight.

to pry them apart


what did you find there?

[“Into the open holes of one text appears
another which transforms the whole in a
blinking alteration”]

not so much a sound

flipper-y indentation

[bracketed text = quotes from Johanna Drucker, Intimations of Immateriality (2002)]