Air of another planet, Gaa Gallery, Wellfleet, MA, USA, JULY 2 – JULY 19, 2015
A Note to Mars (A Sighting)
I grabbed a pair of scissors To cut a hole, in the closest piece of paper- A photograph of the woods.
Perforated edge To Make an aperture to see something See through something.
In all this I feel unable to perceive of anything But it feels wonderfully enormous, full, ever expanding and small.
All at once, all of a sudden.
I saw you in the woods One dusk gray light away from night Standing on the edge Of a rock That looked like it had a hat box key, Small, jewelry sized, Carved into its top edge bending over the back.
When I rounded the rock The object disappeared into an Open, sediment-like formation, That could or would crumble Now or in a million years.
And then you were gone.
I read yesterday That in our consciousness, What we think together, what we make together, There are three scenarios of how this will end up They break down into the causes of The “world-for-us”, The “world-in-itself” and the “world-without-us”
When I think about it all I feel are edges- A complicated suffering with moments Of reprieve, pauses and pulls And heartbeats Paving a fragmentary Trail from this and that And from that to this.
You faintly came back For a moment to sit Aside moss, mulch, abandoned post.
So I stop talking.
And then you left again Flickering Staring in a glow All your incandescence now Cut in holes, Resting in the woods, rocks, and clay.