Skip to main content

a bird's entrails are in a bowl on a table and there's a red scarf wrapped around your head...

fig. a) mise en abyme, after which an appropriation and new purpose  

Friar Laurence: While corners keep an open mouth to news Nearer now and nearer thee effuse So lurking in the birds Sharp as Tuesday, with purpose, and with smith I've often, for many For many more, I've often too. Guiled this rattle wit. Again... this witless side's abuse
Yes yes, Romeo might be fair in Verona. But its the props and their significance that creates this false narrative. As for documentation, that's the real matter of this work. Its the star crossed lovers part of this story. Creating work that actively engages the audience's ability to dismantle the subject-object narrative. Its the dismantling of inertia through the agency of ubiquity with documentation in any form that might take, to wit...

Friar Laurence: Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Superhero 1: Couple that stately table's service with a parlor's amity for math. Friar Laurence Friar Laurence to the last I cry. This real jacketed science this implicit narrative is the honest wit of thy sleeve
Friar Laurence: It's an infectious tongue as earnest as this. Particularly when honed and true with spit.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Got a dog in my earring (an instance of 3)

H' after everything is a mailbox stamp knows. Don't, it's all bad. Like a captain bad.


Own Mah Own Rose

What say the fallen in the Vestibule, late to dinner  Warm as a garden chair Yes to that, to tea and all  in the green as pale as peaches will get 

Turd Grinder IV: Keep me in line for a little while longer, just until you have to go again. The dark wave and the first jolt from my morning coffee are elements that have yet to sheep. Looking through a ton of old glass is hard. Sitting down and sifting through the odd bits of sparkle and dust left inside this hidey-hole at the bottom of this calendar. There's almost always more bitter mixed in there then there is the sweet.  Fontso: I'm so happy-happy to see that this work is being edited down. All of it's been sitting on the back of my desk forever. Where plastic gets soft in the sun and the desks window looks out south all day long it's always so hot. Turd Grinder IV: There's safety in warmth, freedom from reprisal among the pillows, in the soft down. The clock inside is as deep as a clouds kiss.  Fontso: Onion thugs, yello…

In fashion, passive is to envy the figure smote.

Juniper, cedar and all that's old tends to settle on the bus in the corner by this door. It's not quick, joints are popping like failure. Left alone in the kitchen, looking for matches until it can light the stove. "There once was a night here," I've said as much before.
Corn conjured syrup from the corn that I brought from the back of the store. The simple pleasure of falling into that warm slip isn't like drying off or tempting the man at all. It's a lottery with pages of never knowing it all the first time that I was there.
A three way intersection where the street is wet. There's shrink-wrap that's been spooled across each of the pedestrian walkways. It's secured with bulky knots to the street lamp, the sign post and the scooter at each of the corners. There's a garage door or something else done up in yellow with blue steel doors. In the street there's garbage and soon enough an umbrella will join your car keys.
There's alr…