Tyler Flynn Dorholt


Cézanne Cézanne

 

It is possible to desire

when you do not yet know

if, or to which level, you are

desired, but it is very difficult

to practice desire

when you do not feel

in any way desired.

This is just romcom basics,

you tell yourself, feeling

in a sense undesired, left to

cash out imagination.

The fan turns into the air

turns into the mountain

turns into the unreadable reach

of life. Someone once told you

that love is upkeep, involves going

beyond how you end up

being alone with need. How do you

keep up what cannot be

defined, you replied. Start with

caring or moving to where

you don’t know you’ll be.

 

Cézanne Cézanne

 

And so each attempt

is defended

by a new theory,

that we have obliged

the flesh enough

to render the mind exact.

Look at the outdoor voices

bouncing down dusk.

Even the bodies have gotten

along enough to let voice

out to play. Such is posture,

we aim to say, a making up

for language—that to cast

our names out from identity

means we are to find a way

to sit alone or naked without

words. The shade gets drawn

as the shade gets thrown

and we end up getting

artificial with the light.

 

Tyler Flynn Dorholt is the author of the prose poem and photography book American Flowers, and five chapbooks. He is an Assistant Professor and Director of the Writing Program at the College of Environmental Science and Forestry (SUNY-ESF) in Syracuse, NY, where he lives with his wife and their two children. He co-edits and publishes the print journal and press, Tammy.