UV light, via sunlight; all night
psychogeography. A leftover half glass of house red
gone rosé, just sunned enough to saignée:
so it’s thin blood in a glass in this sawhorse kitchen.
Something nodular, or slightly nodular;
with a slight charcoal inclusion, going grey
to wet graphite and so onepointed you
can agglutinate it with the ‘we’ under a glass sun,
so we can gel. in conurbation
I saw Brahman in a milk aisle in japan
imitation (there was no end to the aisle)
or the sign and its likeness, something
that from a far way off looked like flies
was not flies themselves but their likeness
and I was not I in reality, but my likeness
the woman the man
bagging tomatos, weighing tomatos
but in likeness
My mind in conurbation, the Brahman
in the battered shrimp an epiphenomenalism:
an awareness awakened or an awakened awareness
either / or
a full anecdotal externality in economics
leaning against the push cart, in animation
with a stalk of cilantro caught in my cartwheel
with Brahman in a reciprocating conurbation.
Metastasis, browning at the curb’s edge,
and leaves, and the reiterating brown on brown
of them in displaced metastasis.
Some ambient consciousness coming down
Some mauvaise foi, some false consciousness,
settling in, not in the chava stacking cans
in displaced metastasis, la clandestina, fitting
in so well only le flâneur may see her, in gestell.
Nor in the whitechapel Nor in el mercado
fruit wagon where you get
with a two pan balance galangal and acacia koa
downtown in trade
barrio antiguo, Monterrey for Campeche axiote.
So you walk the city because you
need to walk, to debuild the day, each day,
walk thru neighbourhoods debuilding,
going thru your day and the day before,
debuilding, down into old neighbourhoods
with high sidewalks and walls of crumbling
sandstone, in a dérive, walking, debuilding.
Down along Santa Lucia in a drift,
debuilding, not a canal in reality save in its
likeness as if, a private garden with a real
proportionality constant; bereft, debuilding
so much depends upon, these days, metastasis debuilding
or as it may apply to Jahiliyyah in general
have a sit on a slab of wood akin to pinewood.
Fall asleep there, on newpapers, at midday.
Feeding the pigeons near your feet, à la flâneur,
drifting, debuilding, or staring at something where
once there was something to stare at, but where
now there is only spectacle. In the replica of a park
that looks like the same park in another city,
the spectacle is a spectacle, with tended gardens.
Walls of failing sandstone, tended gardens
poured concrete pressed with brick moulds,
ornamental castiron streetlamps, gated parks
the spectacle of an eden in fixed prefabrication
or as it may apply to Jahilliyyah in general,
contrived instances of hypnotic spectacle,
spectacle in the workplace, on cubicle walls.
Stephen Brown is a Canadian poet living in Mexico City. His first book,
drunken dumbshow, was published in 2008 by slushprint press. His
second book, psicogeografía, was published in Mexico City in a Spanish/
English edition by Textofilia in April, 2019. As a visual artist, his poems
have been curated and displayed as wall installations in Xalapa and
Mexico City. He currently teaches English as a Second Language at
Mexico City College.
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