{Speculative Poetics Series No.4}

If it comes,... 
                                       the spark flies between the sticky of language and the slippy of focal points caught on the fly [relay-able in] and inadequately indexed by "voice," "subject," "image," "event," "performance," "surface," "sound," "vibe" & etcetera.

Trying not to let my shadow stain the action when the spark is behind me, marginally guiding just as where you decide to stand on a three legged table is not entirely up to you.

Flying and falling are perspectival with regard to the spark. Mostly I do not 'see' it. I'm imagining things.

The poem has a list which it is delightful to toss across where delight means crossing the list, if I can just factor the toss somehow, but one cannot feel the lattice implied until after and then mostly in invisible ink.

The toss is situated. It risks being presituated ['takes language for granted' - Zac Denton] which is akin to being occluded if (maybe) not an identical twin.

If the where, in where it comes from, is always, if also only immanent, in the toss (only the lonely) -- where toss both evokes Mallarmé and is a word double [body double, stand-in] for utterance, sentence, line, sound, mark -- do we reach back into the dark before tossing into light, or, can we track only output [the toss] while the input comes from the other side of the list ["list" here as "edge"]

The list of meaning [not sense] across which we find the sense of nonsense [lack of meaning]

The spark flies

The spark falls

use the of the f-words is perspectival

To fly and to fall is the spark [like a door that only can open the wall it implies around itself - it has only a hinge, compare the way spiderwebs make space]. But to fly and to fall is not to have beginning and ending points