Giscombe, C. S. Prairie Style. 2008. Champaign, IL: Dalkey Archive.
To have the same sound, to be called by the same name.
Location’s what you come to; it’s the low point, it usually repeats.
To me, any value is a location to be reckoned with; I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge how an event could be talked about like it was you or me being talked about.
Or location’s the reply, the obvious statement about origin; it goes without saying that pleasure’s formidable.
“The 1200 N. Road Going East”
To me, image is any value in the exchange. Pleasure’s accidental. In any event, it’s hard to measure and harder still to memorize, pleasure. Image stands in. To me, voice is that which gets stuck in the head, effected voice, or inbetween the teeth, the hiss of love. Songs, eating. Whatever love says it’s no image, no consequence. This far inland, the erotics’ only obvious from a distance. This far inland you need something more sexual than dichotomy.
What’s missing: my country voice, the miracle singing is, to vex and hound the speaker, to outfox him. (Originally the lyrics went, “where lived a colored boy named Johnny B. Goode.”) What’s missing’s the way into what’s visible or obvious from a distance; or a way to distinguish that from mirage, love’s floating-in-the-air door.