JAKE SYERSAK
Prolegomenas to the Opposite of Weather
*
the sky’s its own suicide .I can’t understand it .all the inverseuniverse of it ,all the milkycreosote of schizo-
wristed surgeons apt to taffy apart the blued asphalt of it ,the pure the of it .it ,like some meteorologist’s pliant feint .playing outside as a kid I’d always predict a cloud’s electric as sparks off their collision :lies worthy of hwy
lines .eroded ,linebyline ,they exemplify allcorporeal’s pliant isn’t.an isn’t line of thinking ,what’s the opposite
ofweather ?is? you&I ,knowing snow doesn’t exact itself down ,think tulle,think finesse,think thinness .not
thing-ness .a not not ,like filings fishing line glints ,sunned ,scalpel-slaloms out weather’s opposite into .
beyond a doubt
*
later I’d see without a doubt a doubt’s theclosest thing to thinking I know .that’s why the greatest tragedy in theatre isn’t theatrical at all it’sjust how a movie moves .it’s theitself ,the’s denial to serve .so I’d immerse
myself in Buñuelia ,his films .I’d watch how cumulo nimbus thins, turns cirrus uncinus-slit moon ,chews ,construes its final unifying Un Chien Andalou’s wound (and it was a wound ),wound being straightrazor’d eye,a ventriloquoy like gristle is as if in yours is the mouth of a cave wall’s unwillingness to hold psyche .as in
paleo-caves :Lascaux or Chauvet .or how a mind, waking, slowly carves out the soon-to-be-too-late: “—you…
you were there. &you&you&you”
*
you ,ungrasped asa lung’s thinking it’s soso easy to breathe ,only to have forgotten how ,to’ve lost it ,to’ve
consciously swapped so for SOS ,infernos for a pyre ,strays of ash for ashtrays .It’s disgustingly grotesque
how the flickèdequipoise of a fire canbe steamrolled by night’s more distinguished shadowycliché ,how a
flag’s 3rd dimension can be ironed away ,winded of wind ,so to speak ,dumbly .do clouds clef ?do rains
wrend ?do I you ?I’ve always thought that a you was best muse-fused ,leaned into gently like howa car turns
thru what the I flies :what flagsfeign :reveries of rivers.all flags ,burnt ,turn black .yes ,but not all rivers flow
like rivers flow .as in ,vesuvially
*
It’s as if everyone reveres this weird inclination to kiln an empire under which to collapse :this is the body ,I
guess .as if bones were toys merely to co-exist with ,as if they’d vie to unthe the body ,vie for radio arachnid
5 fingers rigormortised intoa chord I’m without elastic enoughto comprehend .vie to guitar it ,snarl it, cres-
scent-web it back to calico .if so ,why so ?ipso facto, a cloud’s a musclememory of an opposite’s power ,just as
snow’s a musclememory of rain :a spectre,erected ,amIright? the I in you says yes, as yes as oolong tea in water does ,ad to astra &body/mind .wobbly sideshows of eureka pleaseme ,tho I’m weighed on by thiscrystal
incurred ,hyphenates you & I human
*
sometimes what I’m most afraid of is that the best of what we are is hallelujah.liaisons of star-gristle in the dark
meat.re-dos ,eons ,ions .never rly lions unless to flow toward & orbit a corpse ,a requiem ,a question ;so
I’ll be honest when I say that when I want to know the opposite of weather I want to know for the novelty of
holding in my hands for once what’s on the tip ofmy tongue ,what fells by muscle the skeletal ,acts as comma
for inevitable cryings-out (i.e. ,beopposite what’s weathered ,for once ).but an eye to view its own veiny electro-
static won’t be freed til thelast meteorologist ishung by recycled entrails of what we said’s the verylast tempest
—a trail of re- we never zed
hyphenates you & I human ,incurred
as in ,vesuvially .like rivers flow
&you&you&you .you were there
beyond a doubt
Jake Syersak is an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Arizona, where he serves as editor for Cloud Rodeo and The Sonora Review. His poems have most recently appeared in DIAGRAM, Coconut, and Ilk. He is the author of the chapbook Notes To Wed No Toward from Plan B Press.