Orlando White
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04/28/2026 14:58h
A sound-loop hangs from the white gallows of the page:
letter j strung up,
the crook of her foot postmortem—
leg sway.
Mouth retches
a vowelround o
then from the roof
gasps a dark l slung.
Is not innocent:
the i with a white noose
also around his neck,
blindfolded, asphyxiated.
Spaces within words are miniature knots
that suspend letters—
the paper
always tightening.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
I place a black cloth the size of a dot over his head. Wrap his entire miniscule body
with a thread of my black hair. He lies there on a white sheet of paper and squirms like
a dark cocoon, thinks he is going to transform. The letter, when it begins to lose color
in a book never opened, becomes a macula in thought. And when read through the lens
of a decimal point: see its dark fleck of a cranium, see expendable language—grab the
letter j next to him, hold it like a tiny black scythe, behead the i and watch its dot head
roll to the back of a sentence.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
Under diagram of a letter-less paragraph,
block white. Silent quadrates, grid imperceptible
where the arrangement cross-puzzles itself.
Blank words equidistant by page flectional by print.
Structure of paper exists to limit communicatio
of sound of silence; how word-types appear,
how fonts distinguish an ipseity of language.
The pages' margins shape set-text a voice unwrit;
contains unseen accent, pressure wave code.
Where breath within paper functions a sensation thought,
actions charge form. Without
a point an i will forget its direction, or a j
with its curve will not show its breadth of line.
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