how the earth increases

(after the Waking of Angantỳr)

She is awake and	thinking about
how the whole	world is never all
awake at the same	time and how in
that case a moment	can never truly be
global and how	things are rarely
interesting for more	than two or three
people at a time.	Simply, our inability
to be an assemblage.	She images a gong
with the power	to wake the world,
everybody, a gong	of unimaginable
everything. She hates	how the mouths of
the sleeping fall open	like the mouths
of the dead. She	thinks of her friend
with keys to the	garden in Soho
next to her on the	grass, the bright orange
from the streetlight	across his face. She
thinks of the heart	as a mind enclosure,
visualises a silver cage	around it. She feels
anger that the signs of	small businesses are
always Someone &	Son. She thinks of
aubergines as the	horses of the
vegetable kingdom.	She thinks of ships
as horses of the sea.	Seahorses. That
video in biology of	the male giving birth.
The word spasm.	Tomorrow, the tent
of the sun will be	pitched somewhere
in the sky, as always	ready to be rained on.
Her teacher once	suggested that the
girls should pay	attention to how
the boys conduct	themselves. How they
don’t fuss. You think	of yourself as just a
human being until	something happens.