No Help for That | Jackie Clark

& twilight skies stuffed with blue, punctured
regionally & lower in your direction. Bells
impressing a heavy construction, a recognition
of what was previous or what clacking it accompanied.
Elemental measurements & potential equations,
adding machines repetitively pressed as items
are swept from shelf to basket. I am creating
an accurate representation of myself, allied
by little plastic bottles with little tiny text
& a group of other conditionals. The camera
is responsible for capturing not for what gets repeated.
A rolling tangent, the street outside my office
is happy in its leisure. It doesn’t sigh or lure
it just sits like a mailbox empty of mail.
Not a posture of context but pressed instinct.