Abstract
1 3 0 Y P E N T I M E N T O W Y A T T T O W N L E Y Behind this view is another view. Under this painting, another. Before the trees we planted, before the leaning wheat, before the bluebird moved into her box and the white moth ticked at the window, before this house was another house. Behind this country is another country. Bison and smoke signals in the wince of an eye. Before the corn, the floor of an inland sea. From water to earth, earth to air, the wind sorts it back, blows it forward like the pages of a book. Behind this book 1 3 1 R is another book. The narrative descends into mystery, the characters amend their names. Who’s behind the eyes to take it in? Behind this body is another body. It is made of sky, and it changes its stripes from black to lilac blue to red to black again. It was always you behind me, you behind the pen. ...
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