Noah Eli Gordon
**
that’s thunk
through tracing
dirt in
the pot
dust on
the pond
degrees in
cataloging debris
looks like
rubbish yes
signals yes
yes says
go on
film me
leaving lot
cars idle
walking here
ink’s dry
irrelevant keyboard
lore kept
bounds back
in buoyancy
the craft
some recorders
employ lights
**
is accomplished crossing
Los Angeles modifying
weather uneven data
always observable like
you need gaps
storm portraits something
satellite white pulses
particles heat the
poem measuring anatomy
meaning anonymous enlarging
lies okay Jackson
for example distortion
morphing buried woofer
winds up binding
elements collapsing handbook
used to give
the recordist room
in noisy conditions
for documentary filming
closer to subject
echoing or weak
any missing ambiance
relaxes in mix
birds traffic waves
refrigerator florescent light
protecting against sudden volume
other cut in sharply
any track noise is
sound of the actors
disaster drowns the honeysuckle
statuary too Latinate tamely
or rough tampers with
on his arm the
cascade sentiment ornamental sedation
I like to travel
and thus such a
blatant overview construing temperament
you call this submarine
days outside real ovals
what dream is that
man bucket marble house
easy listening eases us
so no more verbosity
plunging toward seems thwarted
torn seams aren’t tactile
adding an oblong shape
as well as this
fear of the circle
fear of the cycle
a contorting cyclical inversion
**
this mahogany surface might suffice
as classic meant a citizen
what highest order ordains what
he thinks in questions himself
to wipe out the approach
and approach another quiet hyacinth
so calligraphy’s a kind of
interpretation organizing the world
no bold statements resounding nothing
a boat and a dockworker
both characters shutter a bit
lusting for the prefect kerning
up up directives downturn outgrowth
you can’t compound ironworks much
but mulch it so showboat
nada is as nada does
devil you know you know
her by her handwriting sure
it’s simpler than that morsel
of fire trucks or else
a thinner varnish might work
then he really left irate
such that the sentence began
in the middle of her
yes I think like it
fingerprints on the surface of
just make sure it’s not
okay so we go then
shook the mammal I am
domino mother fucking fucker yeah
whose hate speech is lost
an iris reflecting the lectern
Scott was in the den
and reading too far in
but I like sounds like
toward the dirt I think
a subtle swerving if that
carnivorous Montana with its reverberations
just send it flat rate
I think I’ll repeat that
nearing someone’s claustrophobic manikin hammerings
please unstitch already this contorted
luxury at least is what you
soup topped with watermelon pieces
done its usual number on
sharpening your syncopated nesting instincts
I’d just like to relax
I’d just like to relax
I’d just like to relax
I’d just like to relax
**
return to Sawbuck 1.6
**
Noah Eli Gordon's writing in this issue is from a book-length ambient work titled One Thousand Lines from a Perfectly Functional Book. Harper Perennial will publish Novel Pictorial Noise, his fifth book, in September. Tarpaulin Sky Press will publish Figures for a Darkroom Voice, a collaboration with poet Joshua Marie Wilkinson and artist Noah Saterstrom, in October.
that’s thunk
through tracing
dirt in
the pot
dust on
the pond
degrees in
cataloging debris
looks like
rubbish yes
signals yes
yes says
go on
film me
leaving lot
cars idle
walking here
ink’s dry
irrelevant keyboard
lore kept
bounds back
in buoyancy
the craft
some recorders
employ lights
**
is accomplished crossing
Los Angeles modifying
weather uneven data
always observable like
you need gaps
storm portraits something
satellite white pulses
particles heat the
poem measuring anatomy
meaning anonymous enlarging
lies okay Jackson
for example distortion
morphing buried woofer
winds up binding
elements collapsing handbook
used to give
the recordist room
in noisy conditions
for documentary filming
closer to subject
echoing or weak
any missing ambiance
relaxes in mix
birds traffic waves
refrigerator florescent light
protecting against sudden volume
other cut in sharply
any track noise is
sound of the actors
disaster drowns the honeysuckle
statuary too Latinate tamely
or rough tampers with
on his arm the
cascade sentiment ornamental sedation
I like to travel
and thus such a
blatant overview construing temperament
you call this submarine
days outside real ovals
what dream is that
man bucket marble house
easy listening eases us
so no more verbosity
plunging toward seems thwarted
torn seams aren’t tactile
adding an oblong shape
as well as this
fear of the circle
fear of the cycle
a contorting cyclical inversion
**
this mahogany surface might suffice
as classic meant a citizen
what highest order ordains what
he thinks in questions himself
to wipe out the approach
and approach another quiet hyacinth
so calligraphy’s a kind of
interpretation organizing the world
no bold statements resounding nothing
a boat and a dockworker
both characters shutter a bit
lusting for the prefect kerning
up up directives downturn outgrowth
you can’t compound ironworks much
but mulch it so showboat
nada is as nada does
devil you know you know
her by her handwriting sure
it’s simpler than that morsel
of fire trucks or else
a thinner varnish might work
then he really left irate
such that the sentence began
in the middle of her
yes I think like it
fingerprints on the surface of
just make sure it’s not
okay so we go then
shook the mammal I am
domino mother fucking fucker yeah
whose hate speech is lost
an iris reflecting the lectern
Scott was in the den
and reading too far in
but I like sounds like
toward the dirt I think
a subtle swerving if that
carnivorous Montana with its reverberations
just send it flat rate
I think I’ll repeat that
nearing someone’s claustrophobic manikin hammerings
please unstitch already this contorted
luxury at least is what you
soup topped with watermelon pieces
done its usual number on
sharpening your syncopated nesting instincts
I’d just like to relax
I’d just like to relax
I’d just like to relax
I’d just like to relax
**
return to Sawbuck 1.6
**
Noah Eli Gordon's writing in this issue is from a book-length ambient work titled One Thousand Lines from a Perfectly Functional Book. Harper Perennial will publish Novel Pictorial Noise, his fifth book, in September. Tarpaulin Sky Press will publish Figures for a Darkroom Voice, a collaboration with poet Joshua Marie Wilkinson and artist Noah Saterstrom, in October.
