Jenn Angela Lopes



1913: In the tine of Pisces and Aries, Disraeli was ruminated on as bridge

For aeons we’ve been blueprinted off of a sentence of a sort, no stratagem in providence.

Now on land, there’s probing the main thing  is to bring people to live in here.

But what?

Sward and the lea and prominence.

During peak travel hours between 6 a.m and 6 p.m, Monday to Friday differences nuzzle one another and in doing so losing itself in its construction.

Our construction plans our mourning together, and i had to let go: the clanging, the debris, the ceaseless overviews you orchestrated on me.

I irretrieved yet another subject.

Me, I sometimes am at a loss for words forever changing residences.

An environmental act proposal filed hands on behalf of forms.

Once complete traffic would shift and the what was said wasn’t meant effaced as site preparation.

My gym ass body became something of a telos.

With abutments like undirected striving and self-sufficient reason, there was never an end to this affair.

What could we say about our dyadic love?

Bridge: plight measures that may address issues such as noise, vibration and public safety.

Like how we prognosticate the weather, the commencement of construction, the alternate routes to take, the blood discharge.

Sometimes I think a line is so vacant.

Other times I dance on it, and I swear I am so happy.

This temporality is a harm I relate to in sequence upon love under-construction.

And memory broke my heart, in a day of rain, on this bridge, the body never forgets: how we all line up, how emotive surges, bumps, nudges and even sibilance swathes in hush.

How can you prose to mitigate a noise nuisance?

The helicopter circulated surveillance, took off in 2011, forgot turbulent debate below, inculcated intent to aloft 1,000 hours a year.

Did someone do that derrick to quasi-instantaneity on this bridge?

I couldn’t even believe that guy didn’t look at me while I dodged the activity generator to study?

Expropriated from our language by maintenance two nations, sprawl makes for good.

Like what you do to us under here, tombstones will lodge our moans as earthquakes.

Snatch us from repetitive dual strain injury.

That a condom wrapper by the Greek Philosophy section is a great fuck.

That we being in time are still bound by this sequence.

We are deficient.

That the capacities for encounter and assembly become strengthened in nascent, in climax attaining to vision only on a muscular bridge of relation.

Sinewy dispersion in how penetration by returning form buccal simultaneity.

I am a girl of impetus designating content and i refuse your kinda mounting of a sentence.

Terror inscribed this problematic. You asked me questions i couldn’t look you in the eyes.

To see and hear in time to avoid guidance touch I am exhausted with incertitude fluids

And i do know who you are credence in discerning ambivalence I am reading you.

And you felt my foot.

Feel my foot the convexity of heel betwixt night forms who speaks when construction workers are working.

Entre as formas da noite com quem falo.

Something like a solenoid inclining me to your voice.

Like your major premise guide do you dare speak to my silence assist lateral obscure.

My foot promenades palpitates no velleities, rather a kissing nook.

The landscape brought me back to you. Our history and history as such.

In 1955 this bridge was built.

It was the birth of my father.

And we attached ourselves to Sibyl to persist.

We attached ourselves to scars, lines, hang nails, stains and scoff marks.

You thought that was the ending, it was the middle that broke us.

And this bridge must hold the uncaused grip of its cause.

Must purge the network check overflow of accident.

Vacate the negation from its little mouth.

We used to see as landscapes while circumventing potholes, emboldening antiquity’s gossip.

Our gossip as repetition, as supreme form coveting what we apprehend.

Omit think before you speak, try thinking, speaking, moving concomitantly.

Plotinus reminds us: love is like a goad; it is without resource in itself.

A word and a word back.



Jenn Angela Lopes divides her time between Winnipeg And São Paulo, Brasil. She has been published in CV2 and The Capilano Review. She recently took part in the Winnipeg Arts Council’s Placemaking Challenge, collaborating with Visual Artists.

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