from Untitled III

Geoffrey Squires

 

Where if it did and if it did
which is no more than to say

believe me

*

What weight there is substance or heaviness

many many small movements
uncertain at first and then

does not or where it can

which when it came was not because

whether it is or has within it
imagine what that would mean

*

Where if you do it often enough
if it is repeated often enough

*

To come here is to know it again
as if nothing had changed
and all that had happened in the meantime
was of no consequence had no import
for this place the paths the trees
the light falling through the silence

*

If only because

and yet with the capacity to work their way
into spaces we have only just thought of
movement how do we know

what seeing is

no change from the last time then
no

*

What weight there is

different how different not too different
might or might not and anyway if it did

*

Why does it stop here at this point
break off what it was doing

abruptly

as if it had seen something
or something had occurred to it
suddenly some idea or possibility
which gives it pause

*

To where in some place (one imagines)
it will stay
come to rest finally
some kind of destination

beyond which one does not go
or cannot go or has no need to go

*

Whether it is or has within it

some substance as cannot be imagined
who knows where it all goes

many many small movements

what light there is
draining upwards and away

voices a shiver in the air
time the particular

*

What settlement is made then
of the unquiet the disputed

what they had hoped or hoped for
all that we ask
which is no more than to say

down the long ghost of the estuary

*

Each time a little or a little more

*

All these movements gathered into one shadow
listen wait do not

and to find some history for them something
that they lack without which they seem
curiously superficial
merely what they are

*

And for all we know
might be so again

breaks down repetitive not long
one thing flowing from another
imagine what that would mean

why does it repeat this of all movements
there is not a day but I have in some way tried

believe me

*

Where if it did and if it did

no one remembers the beginning
no one understands the end

many many small movements
long casts of shadow

what crosses its path or field of vision
and is as quickly forgotten

*

To find stories for these trees
narratives of their foliation
some reason for density

different how different not too different

state or condition

few things resist interpretation defend themselves
successfully against comprehension

and it is all in the air somehow
hanging trapped with nowhere to go
suspended above these deep, indolent rivers
with branches trailing fish lying in pools

*

Which when it came was not because

nothing it seems nothing
and after that

the silences handed down
as if in a long line
without a word

*

Monitoring or following following

*

Soft arrange order classify

each time a little or a little more
when there is no point as we know it

and might be so again

adds up no doubt and over the course of time

*

It is a mistake to think
that every moment should somehow be

one thing following from another

descent as it were
that widens out again
after the narrowness the constriction

where the path leads down
to small woods and hidden water
and all is all around
close intimate proximate

so that we pause bemused
incapable of taking it in

*

Why does it repeat this of all movements

*

Sameness invites abstraction sends
the mind reeling

which needs above all some detail
something to keep it occupied
something to work on

*

These are small places
not worthy of a name

some outcrop or hillock
the gap between two fields

and no one has thought to name them
give them some name
which we could know them as
remember them by

*

Breaks down repetitive not long
one thing flowing from another

some difference hard to explain
why does it repeat this of all movements

and an echo as if there was space there
imagine what that would mean

*

Which if taken away suddenly

light wind on the skin and after that
might or might not and anyway if it did

*

This must have been done without thinking

*

These bodies so usually spread out
and open to what comes
here is how we and between
and then

with some regret let go
we do not need to know everything

*

Stretches or reaches out maybe

and there is always the idea
that it is only a question of effort of degree

which is no more than to say

sudden lift unaccounted for
unless it were the air which raises them
just for a moment temporarily

and the darkness later like a quality
soft intangible like qualities are

*

And there is always the idea
absorbed preoccupied with small sounds
each of which from a different place
height angle
adds up to what I cannot see

*

Fixes upon does not let go

*

Which at no point rises significantly above the rest
but extends on all sides
in every direction in the same way

ready world of which is much
and does not or does not

but which if taken away
withdrawn suddenly

*

When if you do it often enough
if it is repeated often enough

*

Passage from sun to cool

the air inside like marble cold underfoot
on the face the bare shoulders

in the unwonted dark of the room

and sensitive to the least change
breath or touch
our border with the world

*

Where there is no place as we know it

*

Such substance as is not to be imagined
who knows where it all goes

one thing flowing from another
while or as long as

and that comes wholly from the outside elsewhere
brief exaltation temporary unexplained

believe me

*

As if their very proximity meant something

quiet invasion of dusk
uncertain at first and then

and going over again all that has been done
for what reason or as a result of

layered silences
late yes now

to which place of the many there are
till we are only spaces cries of air

*

Stretches or reaches out maybe

I think of it as light quick in its movements
darting retrieving then pausing before

though often going back briefly just long enough
to confirm to make sure

*

No longer ours if it ever was

faint rustle of leaves in the death wind
this ready world

when if only things had been different
panned out another way

this day which will be like any other day
oh no

*

Close how close
offering what is now

*

How little we speak in the dark
almost as if we were afraid
or that it meant too much was too significant
or that someone was listening
as if we could be heard

*

And we make plans which are never used
never put into practice
but remain latent mere possibilities
as to what would happen if

*

In the long pauses that there now are

*

And does not go away just because it has been forgotten
dismissed for a while

monitoring or following following

what comes next or at last
and slightly earlier than was expected

*

Here not for the first time
if only because
stretches or reaches out maybe

why does it repeat this of all movements

absence or touch
which is no more than to say

*

This is a place reached
where or only or in what way