These sentences will reflect many places sitting in the same place; they will rise with breathing and fold at the apex
These places will leak their histories and will void; they will burn lines into the walls of the page and will haunt the periphery with figuration
These sentences will keep their core lit throughout the event of this writing and will attempt to grow a floor out of an introduction then build an essay under the floor and have math be the ghosts
These sentences will be on fire by the time the dream arrives and will not want the dream, will be in a state of both narrating the dream and tearing it apart; these will have speed as they burn, will fray
“Figure 55” from Plans for Sentences.
Printed with permission of the author and Wave Books.
Renee Gladman is a writer and artist presently using the space and time of drawing to explore more deeply the impact of blackness, futurity, and moving/erupting architectures on topographies of the sentence. In addition to Plans for Sentences, she has published thirteen works of poetry, prose, and drawn-writing, including Prose Architectures and Calamities.
"With each shift in repetition, Gladman builds mystery as well as understanding. As she writes, these sentences will 'loop the unknown and unfinish it' at the same time 'these sentences will gather all the pauses into a flowing assembly.' When finished reading the book, readers 'will antenna the unknown.' They will feel meaning rather than know it."
—Julene Waffle, Adroit Journal
"In the book, Gladman includes hand-drawn figures alongside poetry. The art pieces are often comprised of indecipherable, loopy script that accumulates into architectural-type structures. Some look like something akin to what you may have seen this morning, others from outer space."
—Diana Arterian, Lit Hub