a river slips …
Cole Swensen
despite and still …
Nathalie Koble, Cole Swensen
electrically rowed Rousseau from a wide green meadow …
On one side of the pond, a woman heads west in stone, while on the other, it’s a man heading east, but with the same extravagant gestures of headlong flight—one leg thrown back and both hands launched forward. And sometimes it’s on the tip of one of the lifted heels that a pigeon sits, and sometimes it’s on a thumb, but usually it’s on a head, often one on each, making a mockery of the phrase “in headlong flight.” …
Hand me this hand …
One …
saw the magnet grow electric …
If a garden is the world counted …
married a woman who was perfectly happy …
No, worry about nothing …
Given: The trees along a river seem constantly in motion; perhaps it’s the rhythm inherent in their equidistant planting, inciting a sense of walking, or perhaps it’s the movement of the river itself, a visio-kinetic echo connected to the viewer. Or is it the triangulation—river, line-of-trees, viewer—in their complex differentials, as, for instance, in a train station when the train on the next track over starts to move and, for a second or two, you’re not sure which, you or it, is actually moving off—and thus, if I stopped walking, would the trees then start? And what would become of the river, now derailed? …
noctes illustratas …
amid the growing craze for automatons …