"Profices" by Jane Gregory

COMPANY EDITIONS is an independent publisher of poetry and visual art. The journal, Company, was founded in 2013 and is published three or four times per year. We will also be publishing chapbooks beginning in late 2016. Company Editions is based in Athens, GA, Iowa City, IA, and Cambridge, MA. You can contact the editors by emailing editors@companyeditions.com.

PROFICES

Jane Gregory

 

 

That it goes from all

shall be well to oh

well

 

Knock knock

 

Everything is a pattern

of yesses and no

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now is only not otherwise

& sobriety is death        for the moon

is a licked wound,

the glimmering innards

of a ripped whale &

obscures the world’s terrific exit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Obscured, the world’s terrific

(Exit)

 

I want to thank what is clear

for the grimness, what the

future’s retrojection bore a hole right through,

the .commune where/as it currently stands

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And what

 

The moon thus shed

its singleness

as if it were real and behold: 

The world’s terrific

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why do I need my ideas validated for me

            the index of prophecy is light

So that I understand

            the world with all its signatures visible

 

Light, icicles, feces, profit

 

                                                Of the world

Was made

Panic

And then its exit

Imiseration

Graced

 

 

 




PROFICES

 

 

 

I understand where all this is going

so nothing I anticipate happens

except to what it happens upon.

 

Everything takes great effort

though I am more

and worse than a coupon.

 

For what will you go to this?

For what shall you like it? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For what we are is each their users

and what else

not to be overcome

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Though there must be a bad vortex—

said everyone’s where they find themselves—

since everything

Since every know thing
only occurs to me each thing occurs
not to overcome what is else but

Hey     Everything

takes great effort

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I roll I roll I roll yr eyes

as Friday complies

though I am not following

 

 

 

 

What of it stop it

 

 

 

 

Though I am not following or what of it stops

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if it stops? 

 

Whelm the field—

Whelp it

 

Whelm the field

Yr face ok’d

My shame & by it

 

 

Help it

 




PROFICES

 

 

 

Driven to no tone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

what is all that shit

you have

figured out

 

credit-lapse  time-score
vice versa
terminus w/o drive

Water strung out on the stones,
wind wrung you are rising

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neither put forth

as a specific soldier My face

 

surprised / by the hand that put

something in him

 

 

My mouth surprised by the hand that put

 






 

This way it won’t be for very long

 

Not for much

will the flayed be

sucked up thru a straw

 

Not for much longer

 

 

Whther or not I have a sense of it, young history, I hate it.

 



PROFICES

 

 

 

The day felt it was an event.

 

The last is only

imaginary but there is speed

without your time. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their ill to believe everything issues

from flesh the bells dry bones the wind

breath fouled by the corners

of their mouth where they keep

how she feels about herself. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon it would be less easy

for him to contain

what they aren’t in what he said.

 

 

Survivre, the sun

soon allied to the wound,

the word to the gesture

the living conceal, the living

conceals the end it protects

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I shall come to rest

in the crotch of the tree

 

Jesus thought of God

as I the Internet

because i know myself God

cannot be a man you guys

and what else not

everything takes great effort right

and is in my nature

to be wrong and redeemy

even wrong about lord somebody

else’s most fundamental beliefs

so i’ve given up

all your gentleness for you try hard

to take it back, for when the dead

equal all created and the archive

lives for itself and on what decays

the map of decay, and though

all my feelings just go about and like

I just cannot or it is too early to try

to feel anymore how it is so late

or simply I am that way, weird,

how things seem ways,

how some pleasures are not good for you,

work.