Excerpt from Bharat jiva

by kari edwards

internal difference becomes a thing, to a thing in a holding cell, sealing imperial fears, disregarding the deadened landscape, unable to breathe, meeting machinery conceptions of absorption bodies, impressing mind machines working with corporal mentality on the surface everything.

so, let’s get serious, say good-bye, wait for another on-time A-bomb, cut off, collectively lost, as long as you believe in, as long as you think, as you believe in thinking in believing in . . . click your heels, repeat after me, though I can not represent myself, we must represent the not representative whole impossible to represent.

so, let’s get personal, get serious and translate violence into another form into another place in time, before the majority sings moral creation songs in the celestial cathedral till dawn . . . let’s get personal, say good-bye, I love you, someone has to die.

there must be a crazy power, intermittent instruments, and or a chain of water, unchained, rippling full, while others drop away. I think flashing panoramas, a natural harbor steeped in the sun’s implicit staying, firm ballooning speechless jest, tittering momentarily there. someplace not rip-tooth skyline frozen acetate. someplace obscure. someplace not a prophet’s immaculate condensed reality, enforced by pliers, plagued by an outside outside, grabbing disappearing starlight. there must be a world of words, uncentered decay, light penetrating flesh to bone, without a conveyor belt construct, mapping another absurd rational predicament something unfurnished, not already saturated with history’s whispering sloganisms. someplace the foot falls, surrounded in a medium, clearly falling, falls clear, gives way to conscious ramifications of disremembered walking, falls forward from the flowing lamp towards dawn’s supplement of love. there must be a dawn somewhere flashing quick, not plagued by decay and too many billowing words.

Pages 52 - 53 from Bharat jiva

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