Honeycomb

Jorie Graham

Ode to Prism. Aria. Untitled. Wait. I wait. Have you found me yet. Here at my screen,
                                                                                  can you make me
out? Make me out. All other exits have been sealed. See me or we will both vanish.
We need emblematic subjectivities. Need targeted acquiescence. Time zones. This is
the order of the day. To be visited secretly. To be circled and cancelled. I cover my
face. Total war: why am I still so invisible to you. No passport needed. If you look in,
the mirror chokes you off. No exit try again. Build bonfire. Light up screen. What are
you eating there. Can you survive on light. What is your theory of transmission. The
centre holds, it holds, don’t worry about that. These talkings here are not truths.
They are needs. They are purchases and invoices. They are not what shattered the
silence. Not revolutions clocks navigational tools. Have beginnings and ends.
Therefore not true. Have sign-offs. I set out again now with a new missive. Feel this:
my broken seduction. My tiny visit to the other. Busy. Temporary. In the screen
there is sea. Your fibre-optic cables line its floor. Entire. Ghost juice. The sea now
does not emit sound. It carries eternity as information. All its long floor. Clothed as
I am→in circumstance→see cell-depth→sound its atom→you need to look into here
further→past the grains of light→the remains of the ships→starlight→what cannot
go or come back→what has mass and does not traverse distance→is all here→look
here. Near the screen there are roses. Outside a new daymoon.

Can you see my room. Inside my room. Inside me where there is room

for what I miss. I am missing all of it. It is all invisible to me. Is it invisible

to you. You have the names of my friends my markers my markets my late night

queries. Re chemo re the travel pass re where to send the photo the side effects the

distinguishing features – bot says hide – where – bot does not know, bot

knows, what is it to know here, can you hear the steps approaching, I hold my

breath here – can you hear that – bot must also hold its breath – now the steps

continue past, we can breathe freely once again, in this hiding place the visible

world, among shapes and spoken words in here with my traces→can you please

track me I do not feel safe→find the nearest flesh to my flesh→find the nearest rain,

also passion→surveil this void→the smell of these stalks and the moisture they

are drawing up→in order not to die

                                                       too fast. The die is cast. The smell of geography is

here: what is the smell of chain – invisible chain – the stone on my desk I brought

back from Crete, the milk I did not finish in this cup. There is smoke from the debris

my neighbour burns. Don’t forget to log-in my exile. This one. Female MRN 3912412.

I offer myself up. For you to see. Can you not see? Why do you only see these

deeds. There is a page on my desk in which first love is taking place, there is a

page on my desk in which first love is taking place again – neither of the characters
yet knows they are in love – a few inches from there Mrs Ramsay speaks again – she
always speaks – and Lily Briscoe moves the salt – the sky passes by rounding us –
the houses have their occupants – some have women locked-in deep – see them –
someone has left them in the dark – he stands next to the fridge and drinks his
beer – he turns the volume up so no one hears – that is the republic – are you
surveilling – we would not want you to miss the women kicked in order to abort the
rape – those screams – make sure you bank them you will need them – to prove
who you were when they ask – I am eating – can you taste this – it is nut butter and
a mockingbird just cut short a song to fly – I tap this screen with my fork – I dream a
little dream in which the fork is king – a fly lands on the screen because it is summer
afternoon – locusts start up – the river here are you keeping track – I know you can
see the purchases, but who is it is purchasing me→can you please track that→I want
to know how much I am worth→riverpebbles how many count them exact
number→and the bees that did return to the hive today→those which did not lose
their way→and exactly what neural path the neurotoxin took→please track
disorientation→count death→each death→very small→see it from there→count it
and store→I am the temporary→but there is also the permanent→have you looked
to it→for now→