We were there to be a crowd — You me the thing we gather around a porcelain bone spur an uncompromising movement towards the truth of what I’ve been doing — Leaving a trail of dew as convenient digression — This is the correct address — Skip through the film to check for style and find a long tracking shot from the perspective of a streetcar — Uncommitment of time — Further evidence of enlargement further reason to follow the feeling into more feeling — By the river it’s generations of bow-legged men waiting for the water to run clear like it could — Clean like when the hull of a ship skims across producing a delicious wake — When the arch of my foot collapses and I catch the banister just in the nick of time it’s an experience of the design being just so — Are you coming with me? — The pamphlet was mostly concerned with the backstory of the bridge’s construction — In the evening under street lamps I blur into my matter an atmospheric jubilation in tiny shorts — A reminder to allot focus to the invisible part of the room — Adagio, adagio, there’s only a slight dynamic change, the man on the ground floor says to his students — If there is such a thing as a human night, download it in grain — What does the vine know of a fought for leisure as it squirms in hand? — Evacuated sheaths rise and bow — Immune to the demands of privacy in their cresting — If in my solitude I am a statement and I proceed from this statement but get carried away in a fabric store and then purchase a greenish linen-blend for a window I haven’t yet seen, what does that say about my relation to indeterminacy of analogy? — Yes of course we push towards the limits in our stretches — In the crowd we each attend to our visions and put the speaking aside, with the other verbs which we struggle to incorporate — The fruits are overripe but still edible — Where did the chance go after it slipped out the door during a lull in conversation? — It’s not that all the mercury is gone — It’s that intolerance is made improbable given our predisposition to neglect — We turn the words over in our minds, a swollen coin — The region is a harmonic display of snowdrops whispered into being fresh and alive — As the branch dips across the frame I find myself distracted by commerce as it twirls through the air before landing in shrubbery — To measure dampness in the lungs — Form accumulates against big rocks along the edge of the river — The garage makes itself available to the future through past materials — When the knife falls to the floor it’s as a footnote in a slender catalog — The crowd fills in the gaps with potential — And between the crowd — The friction of pavement against its own determination —
Emily Zuberec is a writer based in Tiohti:àke/Montréal. She is the managing editor of Commo Magazine.