XII. Nous nous trempons

XII. Nous nous trempons

He could view it one square at a time, thus containing it. What was terrifying in a vast expanse would become “quite manageable.” – Peter Carey’s Oscar and Lucinda (1988)

Unchanging absorption’s tea-colored water and further obscurities from the back from Mitchell’s Creek—Kneeling,
With a rabbit-skin glue pot and the familiar smoke of burnt bark canoes—A painted honeyeater, called a Georgie, professed
From out of a bough of flowering mistletoe—Recollected now; with salt drying in knitted wool, this Ascension no longer arising, but instead aspects its advanced youth, beneath the Sutro
Scaffolding, as your tube that accompanies the passage on the Leviathan (22 April 1863), in most perfect imitation of tortoise-shell, or ivory, unscrolled before waking—
Ruler-straight waves fluid around a body that must be displaced, and final arbiter of the uneven baseline
Of proceedings from the Bromford Bridge racecourse, culminating in the new material of the Parkesine factory soonest running into liquidation, from film or flamed nacre coating, depending on the nitrogen substituents—

The morning's beachcombing returned a sea-leveled cullet of a pickling bottle, with a canning closure, or a stoppered substituent
Its embossing and chamfered corner settles H.J. Heinz Co. horseradish; pitched from one of the vendors lining the concourse to the Cliff House’s panorama of splintered hulls approaching the Golden Gate—Strangers kneeling
Before the barnacled exposure, as lumberers placing the chain over a giant redwood, or a freight line thrown over the Sydney packet boat encumbered with cauliflowers—Fingering the whorls, one rings the decent boardinghouse’s courtesy bell; listening for the stentorian heels in shifting baselines
Of sands of irrigation basins drained by Afghan cameleers and Chinese miners before being herded into internment camps—You came professing
The continent’s first synthetic long-chain hydrocarbon’s camphor molecules sublimating at room temperature (1864); at the same time, Sutro
Petitioned unsuccessfully for the capital to build an outflow pipe of the Comstock Lode, where he caught a glimpse, in the silver's patio mercury amalgamation, tidal siphoned terraces enclosed by 100,000 square feet of glass—Having lost the memories of what came farthest from Abel Leplastrier, thrown from his horse, who decomposed under the wake’s

Oil-fueled swag chandelier jounced by a crown stick insect, in one boot—Mother, awaking
From the onerous chores of farm management, rereads Marian Evans’s letter of Garibaldi at the Crystal Palace,  who would go on to commandeer the Carmen to the Guano islands (1852)—Cultivated in seclusion,  after their first substituent

Cast lots, into the alpha of a fish, where I combine your calling with my mired beast in the mangrove; nevertheless, ignored, bellowing outside the gaming room—The d’Abbs holding court in their claret wallpaper, where my younger self retraced an absent sovereign with a sign of the three dots resembling buttonholes; therefore, it follows, upturned, and encircled into a caput mortuum—One of the Seven Hills, Mount Sutro’s

Introduced blue gum eucalyptus (1886) that will overgrow; setting off a firestorm—Pressed into kneeling
Before the heatless light of the bilge of Cairns the phosphorescence dashed with sulfuric acid; its base conjugate, a fining agent for the baselines
Of Mr. Paxton’s glass commissions—The tenth path, and first upon which the initiate enters the handsome black and gold filigreed on their calendared backs professing

The Kingdom—Catching the space between them as if it were a living thing that cannot weather again, another reading of the flooded church on pontoons—Wiping gorm from our eyes; clearer for the idealist conformation in fact professing
47 acres of Johnson’s Glass House (1949) in New Canaan, Connecticut, where last year’s fog installation, out of the luxuriant world of their pretensions into the desert of mortification and reward, from Voss (1957)—Those who meted out heaven with the span contend with endemic flat-roof leaks; which, in themselves, are not keeping us awake
In Fujiko Nakaya's Veil (May-November 2014), which timed for ten minutes of each hour, a baseline—
XII. La Nageuse dans l'aquarium of Jazz (1947) researches beyond the hangings for the covalent substituent
Tuning the strength of a draft myristates of nutmeg butter, champagne accord, and engrossed pulse charges of spermaceti oil—To peer inside the taut skin of the Farnsworth model (1947), Miës van der Rohe finalized in 1951—Its celluloid imitating dusk, where the purplish brown hue marked with longitudinal bands of a dull lilac—Of mauve stingers, Polycera nudibranch, in their high seasons, which were occasionally piped into the Sutro
Baths—Smoldering pearwood frames, among pliant ribbons of sheet glass, a Prince Rupert’s tear is streaming into an infinity of strains resisting the iron; then, as if moved under tent-waterproofing spoiled by light rain, the glass house brings the kneeling

Into prayer, sideways into ourselves, and each other—Oldenburg’s I Am For… (Statement, 1961), and kneeling,
Into the desk disclosing the photos X has taken L’Année Dernière à Marienbad (1961), decided by a gambler’s palmistry seconded, then matched by removing all hands, in the pavilion of this Venice Biennale (2015) by Boursier-Mougenot’s flying fingers of zebra finches on Gibson guitars—The argutezza of Robbe-Grillet’s read-through without professing
Their names, which held firm through an airy, dragon-fly wing of feeling, and knowing it should hazard the pose of a Baroque cellist balancing without an endpin; restrung with gut strings that leverage Sutro’s
Sky tram on the ice skaters below—Pau Casals releases El Cant Dels Ocells (13 November 1961) just beyond the Kennedys’s underway Blue, Yellow Oval Rooms, where, awake

In the inaugural of this month, which would later host Robert Frost (29 April 1962), The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes (1939) is being read; written by the author of Porgy (1925), of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess (1935)—Baseline
Of the decision April 3^rd, appointee to the U.S. Court of Appeals, J. Kelly Wright, signs to desegregate the schools behind Archbishop Rummel’s orders to the parishes of New Orleans—Substituent

To the denomination, Philip’s Johnson’s Crystal Cathedral (1980) anticipated mega-churches, and far from the substituent

Of his partner in the Seagram Building (1958); occupying only 40 percent of its zoning parcel, with space for granite quad and two reflecting pools—Kneeling

To split the irises and peonies; four weeks after the last hard frost, after Philip, David Whitney ends (2005) among the eight outposts of New Canaan, with its floor to ceiling shelves containing a photobook by Antoine d’Agata (b. 1961)—So many accessions;  just to get a baseline,

All of which lifts the stakes, and a crown to see you, for the once thought the 13^th day, like 13^th commandment is intimated, rather than written, from the wholehearted impress, the day that follows the next, where the Sun returned to where it was in 1963, a day after Katharine Hepburn’s date of birth (12 May)—The Glass House’s temporary exhibit professes
Tauba Auerbach’s Gnomon/Wave Fulgurite 1.1 (2013), and arrives for the fused silica in so much fluid sand, the four lettered adduct of XIII having meted out heaven with the span, finding it confined the Latin of the first and final initials; which are, incidentally, yours, and harbor of the first word of Genesis—Embedded further than the 15 million pounds of cement of Sutro
Tower (1971)—The winged species, thereto deprived of the fatal, magnifying glass, were likewise crammed shut by its refractive mimic light enters 1.33 times faster than a vacuum, and lighter still, on Holy Thursday (1794-5) in April—All evening, after the search, awake,

Awake, the night before selling up for passage on the Pacific Mail Steamship Company (PMSS) to San Francisco, an act which had the tempering effect of some substituents
On the transition temperature of glass, allowing it to turn—Kneeling in a secluded end of the Sutro

Baths, I deliberated if the mummies on display were the lucky few spared that livid pigment, approximating the tor thrown at my feet, and professes a faith beyond unsettled baselines, with rings followed outwards, where I found you wading there—