my dissent and my love are woven inside me :: wendy xu

I commune with the text by way of railing against the text

The molecular processes of you are never finished

I move through air in the early fall, a cooling spittle, high heat
            days are gone

When the troops leave the replica city, you see that its
            battlements are written in green

A Western style of defense, no birds, all men

Same plaza, white stones, black columns, no memory

You want to walk along the path meant for military vehicles
            and are denied

You want to try falling down where others had before you, and
            are unceremoniously denied

You wanted permission to travel to the mainland to see your
            mother

All of your desires were completely impractical

That is, you did not want to atone for anything you had done

praxis :: wendy xu

I had put down in writing my fear of the war

I too pined for pastoral description

The blue of the water was the blue of the world

Newness does not, for me, equal satisfaction

A finite number of concentric rings I push out into space

A tedious fabric moving through time without malice

An act of oration, rebellion, inventory, fantasy

The sound of the earth closing its one good eye over me

Imagine: you reach out towards the margin’s white hand

You do what your poems want and are clean

When you lay down your thorns you will be done

You do not take up arms against anyone