Evening Will Come: A Monthly Journal of Poetics (Issue 20, August 2012)

The soldier keeps repeating myself. Disjoined from the world of values whose extension he is, he appears in blank erotic haze. Like an emanation, he emerges in a fault running thru militarized common sense extension of my body which he so spectacularly realizes. His appearance and reappearance won’t quit, like a skip or a tic symptomatic spasm I can finally feel a figure I am only able to contemplate now as if for the first time and whose seeming centrality to my book is a consequence of this slow accretion of sensation, not its reason. In other words, the soldier is a phantom synthesis artifice, fake a cause summoned by its own effects. Check out how I fuse my attention to his form this fault in judgment as if his form had been present from the work’s inception. But the soldier is not a concept, certainly not an original one, tho he may be an allegory mirror of ideology, from which there’s no remove a blank that both arouses and frustrates my longing for a livable world, at once portal and obstruction.