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Essay

On Lisa Robertson's "Thursday"

it is
it’s all there is
it’s bright
it’s brilliant
it’s it
it’s expanding, day by day,
it’s beyond what it was
it’s difficult, you see, to predict
it has no centre, yet
it’s here
it’s terrifying
it smarts, albeit
it is what it is
it gathers itself together
it’s implacable and reserved
it’s a shapeless eagerness
it’s moderate to rough
it’s poor becoming good
it generally mimics and resists…

it is
it’s all there is
it’s bright
it’s brilliant
it’s it
it’s expanding, day by day,
it’s beyond what it was
it’s difficult, you see, to predict
it has no centre, yet
it’s here
it’s terrifying
it smarts, albeit
it is what it is
it gathers itself together
it’s implacable and reserved
it’s a shapeless eagerness
it’s moderate to rough
it’s poor becoming good
it generally mimics and resists…


it is
it’s all there is
it’s bright
it’s brilliant
it’s it
it’s expanding, day by day,
it’s beyond what it was
it’s difficult, you see, to predict
it has no centre, yet
it’s here
it’s terrifying
it smarts, albeit
it is what it is
it gathers itself together
it’s implacable and reserved
it’s a shapeless eagerness
it’s moderate to rough
it’s poor becoming good
it generally mimics and resists
it’s not at its best when it’s like this
it’s getting so big–don’t be surprised you can’t finish it
it’s this intuitive structure, though, when you see it
it’s full of unexpected lows and highs
its error is its architecture
its to its credit, though
it’s full of it
it’s not new to this
it’s been there
it’s soft and abundant as ocean sand
it’s as surprised by this as we are, yet
it’s sometimes the subject of vague complaints
it holds more appeal than it’s flimsy content insists
it’s the only thing you’ll need to know because of it
it’s eager to profit
it keeps it fit
it sits
it begs, yet
it’s hit and miss
it’s a source of speculation
it’s there, where we kissed it
it depends on a struggle it refers to very little
it believes in it, yet
it feels empty
it aches with it
it doesn’t know how to act when it’s like this
it feels nervous about it
it’s never worked so hard
it has fits
it has good spells and bad spells
it gets repetitive, though, after a while
it’s embarrassed by its habits
it’s up
it’s down
it eats
it shits
it’s an, some would say, impediment
it preens its counterfeits
it presents itself like this
it’s so much more than even it can say it is
it’s the sum of its negations, which is a surprise
it’s been so often passed over in silence
it’s waited so long on the margins
it lives it
it lives in it
it can’t stand it
it’s killing it
it’s lost its spirit
it is its own worst enemy in this
it interacts so very little because of it
it’s not giving up, just yet, though
it holds itself together for a little bit
it’s been forced to this
it admits
it’s gone too far
it’s reached its limit
it’s not going any further
it can’t remember where it is, what it is
it’s lost it
it’s had it
it quits