If art is the surveillance of nature,
how much bigger can you get, Kant—
absolutely great. You want it bigger
than I take. A montage of mountains,
caverns measureless to man—but there
you are, ruler in hand. Is everything bigger
in Texas? Kant, could you be a cowboy—
how many inches is great, how many fathoms,
how many fences will you fall for. Peninsula
of pelvis, beyond border. Reason with me,
Kant, am I not this garden, conquered enough.
Coquette corners crammed with alpine flora,
flick to panoramic view, widescreen: mathematically
sublime. Stretch. Stretch further. I, too, dream
of the abyss, Kant, a cunt pulsing for greatness.
Caroline Crew is the author of PINK MUSEUM (Big Lucks), as well as several chapbooks. Her poetry and essays appear in Conjunctions, DIAGRAM, and Gulf Coast, among others. Currently, she is pursuing a PhD at Georgia State University, after earning an MA at the University of Oxford and an MFA at UMass-Amherst. She’s online here: caroline-crew.com.