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(something about textiles)

I fabricate a day, a poem from nothing, nothing except

the earth and everything in it, the universe and everything

in it. Backdate the poem to yesterday. My backswept hair

and the swept-back wings of swifts. I have thrown but never

caught a boomerang. This morning I tried to downshift, 

temporarily forgetting I drive an automatic, still haven’t

gotten the hang of being employed or the hang of small

talk but to be continued. Between you and me, I choose 

the void, which has room for everything, for the misused

materials and labor of a day. The neighborhood cement plant 

minus glasses is impressionist and birdsong, some partially 

bloomed trumpet vines. Light industry in the heart of empire,

heavy industry in the peripheries. That’s still a question:

I’m not sure how political it is for me to wind copper wire

around woven dried daffodil leaves, to be marginal in 

the center. In the 90s the European Union was just becoming

a thing and I tried to slum my way through college, fired

from my first work study job. “How many of these book orders

have you processed?” “None.” The task was unreal. 

Who wanted to acquire these books and why was I

inside on a sunny autumn day? After college I’d yell

in the apartment building fire escape before walking to work, 

scheme to get ill or have any reason to sit in Dupont Circle 

watching the beautiful man in denim cutoffs skate around

the fountain. Dupont was a portal to something other

than the usual convos about high-tech missile coating

or U.S.-China relations or earnest discussions about

civil society in Taiwan as if civil society in Taiwan were

just emerging. In the late 90s I thought the economist with 

the EU umbrella was sexy. I wandered 

around Malaysia thinking about how to leave my boyfriend,

definitely not thinking about British colonists. Judith Butler

wonders “who desires when I desire?” “I may try to tell the 

story of myself, but another story is already at work in me.”

Have you ever fainted or been under anesthesia? The dis-

encumbering of a singular, bounded self, the poem as doing, 

the speaker as bio-ing. I didn’t want to talk about missile

coating but can’t stop writing about it, the admiration-adoration

for the technicians of death and the experts who can discuss it.

I made it up, this occasion for self-transformation, no school

bus to pick up or drop off your babies. Bookshelves in the

basement, I tried to explain, are lonely, the nation-state 

is in decline but not empire. The eclipse is partial. To care

for yourself and others you must change your life.