Differences in space and refinement, the accompaniment of sense or the category for separations, these possibilities in nothingness and thoughtlessness: the tender buttons of description and the wanted definitive referent exposure. Tightly clinging cuffs and the handles of white collar expedience, the wanted facts of persistence of payment, of exactitude in that which cannot have anything but surreal actuality. The suit of birth, these spades we’re handed, the suited matters of hands and the wanted gifts of suitability, wandering faceless suicide kings and warning one eyed jacks, the defining characters of any tarot counting up in played chances at fair category or limit, casting lots for better chances next time.
What Kind Of Game is This?
A choice pull from a partial deck
on top of the fridge, used for cribbage
This taking card in a different game
counts for little, usually
These worn wax cards
could tell choice draws
or suspected pulls: dust covered
with plenty of corners missing
or bends in a few of them
But this one was taken from
its place, and impossible to see
These clovers against spades
growing under a crossed triangle
Shape the lowest and highest number
A simple letter spelled Ace
The fierceness of the lowest card
Often claims the highest ground
or is left to simple counting
as One.
This draw escapes any play
Or guessing: of a certain four
here, becomes countless
