Bryant, Patrick

English

Winthrop University

The AnthologyVolume 2013 Article 10April 2013AssociationPatrick BryantFollow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.winthrop.edu/anthologyPart of the Interdisciplinary Arts and Media Commons, and the Poetry CommonsThis Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by Digital Commons @ Winthrop University. It has been accepted for inclusion in TheAnthology by an authorized editor of Digital Commons @ Winthrop University. For more information, please contact bramed@winthrop.edu.Recommended CitationBryant, Patrick (2013) "Association," The Anthology: Vol. 2013 , Article 10.Available at: https://digitalcommons.winthrop.edu/anthology/vol2013/iss1/1041404Association | Patrick Bryant       Editor-in-Chief’s Choicerememberused human-oiled textile smell — animalscent of sweat of grease of man—backseat ‘93 plymouth, gray, looking up’n at’em out the window:9 old years the sun ... not the sun the kid looking at...warmth above the skin of his templeset upon, glowing haze from/through, the windowpanestaring off boredom at play of sun and powerline,now orbish miracle on black bough,now n/ever-ending serpent — ouroboros whipping through fireand forth back and over green-brown blur of trees the highwayseeking out its tail, its gape a yawning stretch of middayinto a midsummer night’s camp sitesnap backnoonish sun’s photons’ movement of brightness on brightnesslaced ‘round black cable to sink upon gravel lotsplit by shadow — powerline veil cast upon rocks’ eaves’ shadows’ darknessslipping on darkness like a cloak or lover’s arms or image around the selftossed/tossing among sheets in frenzied lowgravity haze by lamplightrememberfirelight roaring like old country road sighing-pining for tired wind’sdroning passage over and through engined metal vessel—staring fixated on embered ashes ... not the fire reflecting upon itself ... the kidhypnotized by gray soft-fractured orange-red glowboiling its own imagelifted limply out from flooding deep-sea forest darkness—shyly but immanently unhinging its jaws to swallow them all:the voices strangely singing there’s a hole in the bottom of the sea,there’s a hole, there’s a hole, there’s a hole in the bottom of thesnap backcan’t be that kid again within myself, my self must look withoutthat self no longer myself ... any instant: a shade drawn over a shadedrawn over the walls encircling the bednow cradling lovers now spentin exchange for a hopefor something more than the sucking draining slippage of time—spiraling body through its sensesaway from world-itself, down past all the gillish floating flakage of formsinto the hole in the hole in the black hole in the bottom of the sea, askingwhen it stepped between — the light of and what exactly was — their youthto cast them here so hungrily upon each otherNOTE: This poem is best understood in its original context. It is part of a digitalmultimedia project that I created for WRIT 502 (Cyber Rhetoric). The website is: http://bryantp2.wix.com/writ502multimedia

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