Sappho Variation

My Lord Sith (Nonsite)*

~ for JG

The dreams began in which I could fix
The mechanisms of life
As easily as I could machines
Through time forever to play
A song to the arrangement
Of real things

It was obvious when one could read
Between the lines a sword
Of fire I *must* obey
My master less a day
I was born
As billions are I did

Not immediately imagine
When we were between
Casting him about the shop
Like a sack of meal
I go now to meet my destiny
I think about being ordered to sit on my hands

*all source text from: http://darthside.blogspot.com/

Shop Floor ("Non-Site" Collective)

~ for Taylor Brady, Michael Cross, Judith Goldman, Rob Halpern, Joel Kuszai, Bill Marsh & Yedda Morrison

Because we are always working
& because we must unwork
The world because there is blood
Actual blood on the shop floor

Blood of Wildcats other bombers
Of fame in the flames of our
Future wrecks we shoot into this night
Of labor which sites

Of disaster production all consuming
Because we are sited & short-cited
And over-sighting because we believe
In an actual world this world of hands

& voice will be believe-able
We will hold and be held grasped as it were
To that finer edge of removal
Your dispatches finally from the floor

Because you are always working and we
Are always working I want to dig
Print feel something again
Our making of thinking's edges (*poesis* so called)

Boundaries and borders of a material removed
The necessary abstractions "with" and "to"
Prepositions for lapidary scrap cut to this idea
Of longing Remnant succeed a *Das Ding*

A dent in becoming the net & the mesh
The un-mending Pullman glass the Glass Wall's reflection
Limits nothing in the nexus put our hands
To this sense but let's speak mediately

Square the problem make the set "us"
In a subtracted dawn site the case for something
Came back from the dead resurrected *in* life
Sequent to event named where site is.

Dhikr

All this happens in the instant [...] a unit of time that is indivisible in *concerto* (though divisible in thought) the atom of temporarlity which we designate as the "present" [...] the ideal limit between the past and the future [...] though the senses perceive no interval.
~ Henry Corbin

Perfumed Nightmare

~ for Paolo Javier

Call this a non-site
Mental images to scale
History your ways
Are not always ours
What does a wind matter
What the Gods of distant surplus
Upping the ante frame
By frame?

Interlocuted to this same
Voice same Being which *is* a pictured
Wind the "imaged sea" (Crane)
Symbols to scale allegory
Wreck thought to save thinking
With a capital "-Ing" what is
The capital of gumball production?
Why is whitey going
To the moon again, yo?

Thinking with a capital "-Ing"
The gerund of your prayers
-Here- & -Here- & -Here-
& -Here- wherever your
Camera goes in this actual
World of bridges what the Gods
Of surplus can't cross
Both too small and too big
For their sensible threshholds

In the final shots of your film
You remind me this world is
A bardo for that "other" (that other
Which is also for *this*) the actors
In masks like Gods among men
Impersonating a thousand devils
Of a wind already blown

From paradise your own (it must
First be singular) an Iran of praxis
A Fillipines of overcoming...
These voices over-dubbed in your head
Circle mental images to scale
The literal fact no allegory
Rides above your arduous path.

Rococo Rabbit Bouquat (Event)

Come to the Ninth Annual Bouquat. Hosted by Abby Walton...

Bardo Is My Business (Meatyard, My Neighbor)