from 244 Passivity
by Tim Roberts
I want this work to appear in the place where it says nothing will
break through. Where subject matter is the action of doing, what
you are given, the act of writing. We are going to be reciprocating.
The budget and bread of the day. But still, open water, as you
contemplate the happening, it is happening. So that if subject can
only be impossible, only that, then, in front of you. Because of our
The table makes us simplify. When we get to a question of anger.
When we move through the atemporal, we’re saying “must be,”
I think. That’s all. It’s no more than what you do to lay out the
questioning, which is taking that preeminent place of value, which
is the place of value, writing it out, that is, or are you dragging it
in, something about you that did not want you, to be touched by
you, to be remembered so that it forces you to forget, if you try,
writing it out, to put it down, memorialize it. It won’t be.
There’s fear related to thinking. In the box set on marginal
cities. There’s a right way to rhyme, so and so having chosen, the
element. You study and are not chosen. Why not? It’s the material,
which under certain conditions bends, or doesn’t bend but is
molten. Or then, time passing, you go back into the shade, an
attitude, colorless swamp. Is that you? I have stretched the motion
of contemplating. What I seem to be lifting is story itself. The best
of old behaviors, night birds, quiet flying roaming, and a perch,
one eating another one. There is also a bend in the rain. Forced.
Tim Roberts is a writer and editor living in Denver, Colorado. He is the author of Drizzle Pocket (BlazeVox, 2011) and the director of Counterpath.