Carrie Hunter



Familiarity Clocks

What time wants to do to me. Every crossword a step away from. Everything I know, no one else can know. Every life an utterly unique void. If there ever were saints. The type of person who paints walls. What is not obvious, is. You can't trap a ghost. An obsession with puzzles. What worked yesterday never works today. Wanting to do more than you ever possibly can. The one question suicide doesn't answer.


How thought itself saves me and what it thinks it cannot do. I have never been this far out before. A continuous transposition. What hits you in the chest and I am not supposed to speak of flowers, but it hurts sometimes how they grow out of you. There is a theatre on every floor. But they are not flowers either. Mechanical cranes and what they whisper. That order is what matters and that it is mostly fucked up. Even though you like a word that is not what you want. What takes my place when I am not here. The strangest things about pigeons is that they fly.

Future Science

Everybody wants a Cadillac. There are no questions. What you walk quickly by, avoiding the eyes. A future puddle. What we let get faint. What you let touch you, kills you; what we thought about ladybugs. I am silent in order to make things louder. It is not raining. I will write off this conversation. How many UFOs have not yet been built. Walking only slightly quicker when an ambulance is coming your way.

A Conchology

How reality prevents itself. Filling up the space that has been missed. Everyone is thinking about sex constantly. A shepherd narrative. A time when a dialectics did not ring offense. Having displaced oneself. At least I have my key ring. Counting all the things you don't count anymore. How our unintelligences commingle. The trusted. Everything I see is truth unmuddied. I see everything as it is underneath. Reading the note on the table, sitting down, then standing right back up. Paying more for the atmosphere. That which does not function in concert with anything else. This vacuum suddenly filled with shrubberies. Palingenesis.


Philosophers are always thinking about tables. I have to take out the trash now. We are all surrounded by circles. I am sorry for what you have seen. The difference between rotaries and alligators and the people who are afraid of both. What sort of invisibilities surround us. The gaze of the trochaic. What I inhabit makes me disappear. Seams of the human hold together that which is not. I nod but there are no golden apples.