In the heatwave. It’s cold
in the reading room and always have I work to do.
A scholar opposite gives a little whinny
Close to where I started. And far. Lake coming
out the taps. Close. Close-ish. And far. Touching.
Without speaking. The scholars here are hot—
A woman with Tennyson hair
wears a crown of flowers at her desk.
A corner desk, near a ledge.
I threw my bundle where I’m epic—
and it’s gone. The scholar opposite lets out a turbo sigh—
For me, bewildered as to my way
thinking I don’t know how to think.
Thinking is how to do it. But it’s not. It speaks
Buttercup and lobelia. Ragged robin.
Myrtle and foxglove. Knowledge.
because I don’t
have any. That’s what I know
I saw a mouth. Among the books. And leaked power.
A thick gold braid. A song with eyes. A fountain of money.
I remember plants. And wish. For communication.
That’s what I know. And of Michael
who could take the chaos
and seeking light / and make it
into sugar. A planty and a floating place / cosmic plenum
sifting, spinning, warring itself
Finding out. What I know. Very pro.
Pro play. And ardor. Lets me. Go.
In nothingness. And speaking. If it were not.
For the will. To live. With
everyone. Lengthily. Conversing
to everyone. This infinite
creature. (Heart of hearts.)
With my mouth
With my mind
Erin Robinsong is a poet and interdisciplinary artist. Her debut collection of poetry, Rag Cosmology (BookThug, 2017), won the A. M. Klein Prize for Poetry. She is a member of the performance collective Eternal Atomic Superficial, whose work includes Facing away from that which is coming; revolutions; and Polymorphic Microbe Bodies (forthcoming). Originally from Cortes Island, Erin lives in Montreal