A need
unquenched desire
attentiveness to the intangible
Magnetism to
a camouflage that
scatters in repulsion
Air is felt on
the fingertips
dusting the flakes
of flesh
Yearning for
unfelt experience
reciprocal emotion
A resolution
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Dear Eve
I apologize
For the weak sinewy
bone that birthed you.
You have taken on the sins of all women
The female Jesus
You are the pathetic,
subservient, housewife.
Who was merely
nurturing your lover,
your companion,
the one that you long for.
Disenchanting body-
the revelation of
a topography of lard
shatters you into
bits of shame
under his eyes.
Those snakes are so
very tempting with
their slippery tongues,
their artful deceit.
You are the blamed
and
your daughters have not gained
an ounce of your strength.
It is your helplessness that
they have exploited
with each bat
and pucker
and pinprick
and polish.
The beginnings have not been embraced
and
for that
I apologize.
For the weak sinewy
bone that birthed you.
You have taken on the sins of all women
The female Jesus
You are the pathetic,
subservient, housewife.
Who was merely
nurturing your lover,
your companion,
the one that you long for.
Disenchanting body-
the revelation of
a topography of lard
shatters you into
bits of shame
under his eyes.
Those snakes are so
very tempting with
their slippery tongues,
their artful deceit.
You are the blamed
and
your daughters have not gained
an ounce of your strength.
It is your helplessness that
they have exploited
with each bat
and pucker
and pinprick
and polish.
The beginnings have not been embraced
and
for that
I apologize.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Hollows
Petah Coyne (left):
http://www.smoca.org/exhibit.php?id=121
Tony Tasset (right):
http://kavigupta.com/artist/tonytasset
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Apology
Bless me Father,
for I have sinned.
My last confession was...
10 years ago,
3 days later,
and 1 second past.
Blankets of regret
become the epidermis
that envelop,
that devour.
Ravenous repentance
in choosing to do wrong,
and failing to do good.
Justification is void.
Our savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us.
In his name, my God, have mercy...
I apologize
For Adam and Eve
For Eve
For Mother and Father
For Mother
For the slain lamb, for the suffering, for bigotry.
I apologize
and I espouse all of my sins.
for I have sinned.
My last confession was...
10 years ago,
3 days later,
and 1 second past.
Blankets of regret
become the epidermis
that envelop,
that devour.
Ravenous repentance
in choosing to do wrong,
and failing to do good.
Justification is void.
Our savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us.
In his name, my God, have mercy...
I apologize
For Adam and Eve
For Eve
For Mother and Father
For Mother
For the slain lamb, for the suffering, for bigotry.
I apologize
and I espouse all of my sins.
Stratums of pulp
odious mounds
fatty under layer, yellow with fluid
anarchistic lines
undulation of fat
a topography of fallen cells
shaking to the floor, the bookshelf, the kitchen knife
food as contaminant
the cyclical process
gorging
excreting
molting
swelling granules
stacks upon stacks
soft shells easily pervaded
odious mounds
fatty under layer, yellow with fluid
anarchistic lines
undulation of fat
a topography of fallen cells
shaking to the floor, the bookshelf, the kitchen knife
food as contaminant
the cyclical process
gorging
excreting
molting
swelling granules
stacks upon stacks
soft shells easily pervaded
Mothering/Making
Splatter-
A run.
It flows coldly
from the side.
A muscle revolts,
searing skin
under the layers.
Branding material,
salt in the wound.
The itchy sand texture
induces the
peeling of flesh
from bone.
Under the psueduo-marrow
the sharpness
persists.
Razor-blades
splitting the edges
of the tender surface.
Cold:
of blood
of spirit
of endurance
of time
of empathy
Restlessness
in sleep.
Physical evaporation
is desirable.
Collapse.
Awake.
Seething frustration
is inevitable,
failure
unavoidable.
Sticky layers peel
away, tugging at
the tiny hairs that
nestle on the flesh.
Filmy material,
gritty material,
cautiously rolled.
A feeble attempt
at preservation.
The existence of forms
becomes the
validation,
the proof,
the document
of physical duress
of endurance,
of devotion.
A run.
It flows coldly
from the side.
A muscle revolts,
searing skin
under the layers.
Branding material,
salt in the wound.
The itchy sand texture
induces the
peeling of flesh
from bone.
Under the psueduo-marrow
the sharpness
persists.
Razor-blades
splitting the edges
of the tender surface.
Cold:
of blood
of spirit
of endurance
of time
of empathy
Restlessness
in sleep.
Physical evaporation
is desirable.
Collapse.
Awake.
Seething frustration
is inevitable,
failure
unavoidable.
Sticky layers peel
away, tugging at
the tiny hairs that
nestle on the flesh.
Filmy material,
gritty material,
cautiously rolled.
A feeble attempt
at preservation.
The existence of forms
becomes the
validation,
the proof,
the document
of physical duress
of endurance,
of devotion.
Belvedere (unrevised)
There is a string,
an entrail that is sprouting
from the gaping mouth.
Burnt umber,
Burnt orange.
Color contextualizes the form.
He is furious with the rapid
twittering movements,
reverberating through.
The end is distant
and essentially unsavory.
Rapidity continues.
It is an unleashing,
binding secretions
of an unknown.
The ponderance is moot.
Yayoi Kusama
The most succinct and informatory interview conducted with Yayoi Kusama that I've ever found:
http://www.bombsite.com/issues/66/articles/2192
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