“Architecture as establishing moving relationships with raw materials” streams from Corbusier’s jaw as if it was its own internal dwelling, a thing, as in: the marriage of the & ing. Something like coming to the agreement an airplane’s in flight, though it’s a flighty distance of background drags the eye through the valley of the alley of the shadow of movement. Somewhat like a bastardized architect, I’m still unconvinced “pouring out a concrete sentence” so unmusically will resurrect what means the creamer of a blue sky has: no end in mind. As if turning a phrase were only a zip-ribbon afterthought denoting a gesture there can’t. As if conversating with skylines only makes space for where I lives, forwarding the I in the design the raw moves on. I’m looking over the cast of lines: of life, motion, and the narrative kind—all the outliers we work in to affront. A background impresses more on the fore if the fore’s iffy, if it’s a window won’t Niagra into any real fountained clarity. If your thing’s glimpsing the integrity of a building, it’s best to follow through the fault lines religiously.
Jake Syersak is an MFA Candidate in Poetry at the University of Arizona. His poems have most recently appeared or are forthcoming in H_ngm_n, Ninth Letter, Timber, and Hot Metal Bridge. He is the author of the chapbook Notes to Wed No Toward from Plan B Press. He edits Sonora Review and Cloud Rodeo. Syersak has another poem published in this issue of Phoebe, which you can read here.