James McMichael

from the home place

Occurrences are
runnings-toward. From who knows what all
else time might have
sent there instead, a place is

run toward and reached and taken

up by a thing when a
thing takes place. What it
takes for a thing to happen is a place time lets it

pose or
be posed, arrested,
placed in a resting state
as clay and soured rushes are for
one first gabled end. Allotting things

constantly their whiles of
long or short standing, time is each stance’s

circum-, its surround.
Circumstantial that the same one gabled end should
again take place as it had taken place one

instant before. As
wide as the first, as tall,
and though time brooks few repetitions,
a second gable
too time lets take place. Handedness

left and right affords in time a
front wall,

a back. Before on
top of it all time lets take place as well
a wheat-straw roof,
sod over coupled rafters must be laid
grass up.

Some of a house’s sides are
biased, some upstanding. Because a

house has its sides,

so also does the air that meets them have its
clement and less clement sides.
To the sides a house is posed as are opposed as many
standing and inconstant

things as you please.
As distance is in the room
away from an opposing, sided
instance or stance,
the out-of-doors

itself is sided by a house whose indoor ways makes
room outside. Going outside,
the out-of-doors is gone out

into.
From the standstill the house out
in it
(and with room between) are

hayrick and byre, a road, the moss, discrete

potato-beds, their
grass-to-grass closed hinges.
Room is by the laws of growth at

play there outside for parts related
all as one increase in the

one thing. Along a root
Earthed over, earthed
Over again,
The rose end, heel end,
Stolon, skin

outward through the loose mold
part by part take room.
Enlarged to membrum

virile
now in size
and now to fist they are

parts in relation. There are goods as

yield at the home place sometimes as at
other times
not. Time is
equable that way:
With no parts to it in itself, indifferent,

without relation, time offers
nothing to be carried back. Persons are
separate in time when they are living.
When certain maincrop tuberous parts go on being

missed at the hearth, back as

one again with time are persons now
outside it for good.
Against a bad

outside time,
relation

sometimes takes it sundry parts
inside.
To a first part entered in
relation with them there, inside,

the other parts are sometimes only
relatively other.
Seized in every way
relative and to the first parts taste
are such late

outside parts as are now
stew and colcannon.

As back along the tongue
palatably are carried first one
bolus and more

The circle of the Same surrounds
The circle of the stripped
Assimilable Other
Pharynx-housed, tipped
down through a tense muscle to the gullet. Equal

each to what was wanted,
each timely part means that
apart from her
outside

are parts to be

made same, partaken, had as that one
thought is had in thinking present any
morsel she eats. Laid
hold of when she thinks
are parts that just before were

other for her
anyone’s,
apportioned out

between her and her fellows.
She thinks of everything that is
passing in little parts. When back at

once to those same parts are drift and
purport carried,
meaning grants the time to have
returned to her from not-yet habitable parts

just what it is she thinks of those parts as.
Until she has meant them
as that,

configurative parts are still futures,

they await being
thought about by her as having

each been fitted to its
suitable outward look.
All parts that show are in concord in their
standing over against her,

all are directed toward
what it is about them that she might mean.
As one who sees them, as one whose
self is drawn away to those
among them she sees,

no sooner is she
scattered there outside than she regains the more

that self immured in seeing them as such

To meanings she takes part in with them, she
too belongs.
All parts that mean are
home to one still enough the same herself to be made
solute with them

inside what they mean.
Her domain
within them is the time they
take her to think.

Other for that time and
outside,
absolute,

are interrupting second parties.
High time that in his
proper person
one of them approach her now.
Others of her blood are there

around her,
inside. His having come could pass as a family call.

She can take it as that. So can he,

if beyond the frugal
greeting she tenders
she does not speak.

To address him
puts her at risk of what might follow
straightaway.
He would be sure to answer. It would be

colloquy then. Irrevocably
past thereafter would this mute

present time be.
Among such parts as
give themselves to saying, each leaves a

now-no-more-than-recent part behind.
Another now arrives,
another. Nows
track that way, they multiply,
the gaps that let each new part differ from the last

they override.
At the same time it carries
on to its own undoing
the present

keeps to itself. Resolute,

she presents the present
time and time again by keeping to hers.
Homesick for the Same, the One,
she gathers at the same time what she
watches for in him

and how it sits with her to see it. How
lavish of him that he is

there to see her. As long as she
thinks him that and goes on saying nothing,
she keeps everything at the
one same time. At the same time,

to think does not always

go without saying.
Articulations sometimes are come
out with

they are aired,
my goodness, my

word what reach of a party of the first part’s
voice has for incarnate
third and second persons who can hear.
From its hollow up from
the open glottal cords,

the next column of

breath she issues still gives
nothing away.
Not so

The column after. As it leaves,
The lappets that she draws around it
Make it tremble so positions of the
Tongue, teeth, lips and jaw can sound it

abroad. Cast

forward from her thus are parts with their
own times each.

One does not have to turn to listen.
Airborne at the middle ear,
molecular,
each damped and stronger sound prompts its allied

hair-cell to fire. No more than a
smear at first,
the spell each sound is there for has its

onset and rise,
its temperings whose
play across the membranes no one
other repeats.
Dispersed toward him with the rest from what he

sees of her face,
the silences themselves are telling.
Of moment, every
nasal, glide and spirant

every stop.
Time for them
all there is, these many, her express
fugitive and dative phonemes.
He has made them out.