Monday, November 01, 2010

Installing Spirit

--after Paul Thek

Our contemporary
Like blood heals
Like all is praised
In your notebooks

Where you thought it
To go down
Trace the blood
Where it moved

Like the soul was
The body there
Are concepts
Dicks build to

The sky and cease
So far steeped
Were we in blood
Like blood leaves

Like it heals
All we were
Despite its encasement
Lets in the air

To breathe to some-
times come
Matter stuck
To which machine

Corrupts, makes us
Bold, the body
Brought down
From this cross

Of concepts, like
Time itself
Remains a mould
So spirit clings

Disturbs the
Pinkish trace
Of me, the eyes
A butterfly adorns.

Like a Roman
I brag a lot
Like a Greek my
Flesh is mortal
It is here and
Public and not a slave
My deeds fade in the
Public eye like
Dreams of a socius
I am an Egyptian
Because the world
Is a tomb we live in
I leave pictures and
Words behind—
Fragments of an
Immortalized sun.

Our senses of installation
That blood and the breath are a sketch
Part of one photosynthesis
The shadows have come
To make us believe
One day they will make us one
With what will have been but not yet
Like any body grieves and grief is a debt
Never paid back
To worlds we have lost
For what we will lose procession turns
Into profession
Notes split space and air
You arrange what was smashed
You interact
Exalt the remnants no vision can possess.

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