61: "Conditionals" by Kristen Orser (Friday, September 4)

If it's wind driven, then fire is less attractive
and follows an interior—

(In the world of ideas, the sun does the sun.)

Follow the path where I pretend to forget how easily a single vein passes
from the human finger to the human heart

(as it is thought).

/ And the memory of a body fossilizes
so that a memory of a mind is more likely: /

// Fallen from the sky
like some terrestrial object

(like an artificial object)

All our bodies are a chain of rings connected only by touch of one another. And the movement of this thinking follows the whole flux and reflux of the sea

(not without some reason).

I'll write you and I'll say something of veins, their run and their rules. I am running through thinking—

I am looking for certain things that might be of interest to you:

/ The body I remember fixed himself on a boulder
and the memory of him became smaller;

so small I became convinced
all memory is of terrestrial origin

and is thrown up to the heavens by volcanoes and hurricanes. /

All forgetting, then, is something divine:
sea urchins fallen from the skies.

This is not an equation:

a film on a wall is mistaken for a false sun and children with kites sell all embracing secrets—not including the physical.

(Which way is west without the sun?)

The answers nuzzles up to circumstance and much embroidery. This necessitates a female in the middle and gold-digging ants with wings.

/ This necessitates a reasoning soaked in lemon juice:

I know something and I know nothing; I miss someone and I pretend I miss no one; I am ready to catch a dragonfly. /