___________ is Present

Sunday, May 23rd, 2010

White-noise rebounds against the luminosity of white lights,

And this time sheʼs in white too.
She lifts her head
To greet the man across from her -
" " does he realize his is
" " also a new person?
Hafiz and Rumi always talk of a beloved -
I think of two people,
two sets of two eyes, a
a singular gaze.
Heʼs earnest, telegraphing his experience; his
chest lifts,
eyes sparkle,
lips part,
gulp of a swallow,
to settle back down while she
stares.

In chanting buddhism we sit in the mirror of our

life and chant to call forth a better life condition. I tend
to chant for more and more of my life to become present
so that I can really know it.
This morning, while feeling various pangs,
I thought about this idea of begrudging my life -
what is it I begrudge but the pain and the difficulties,
the loss, hurt, wrong doings?
But who owns such things? Really. Arenʼt they part of
each and every
human life? They arenʼt personal, and to begrudge them is
really to begrudge the human condition and
oneʼs life itself.
You say you donʼt know how someone could
want to kill themselves; listen. Iʼll tell you.
Forward -
her head is so far forward.
Iʼm worried about compression in her spine.
“UP! Donʼt forget the up…” She has to resist gravity.
From this angle I see her thick braid and
I realize my best friend is wearing
the same one. Although it isnʼt laying limp on
crushed velvet; two words I always say with slight mocking.

White daisies and peonies

reflect light onto
the face with the gaze
that is far off and wide.
One almost could miss
a black vehicle with a
megaphone;

Apparently, ART IS EASY.

permanent movement
passing limitations
breathy text floats over my shoulder bag strap and climbs into my ears,
that and a tune,
exposure to chance

no fixed living-place
direct contact
“NOTICE: This exhibition includes live performers.

plaid against white/grey, heels against tan/grain,

pony-tail as she rakes a brush and comb through her hair,
on video. “Art must be beautiful.”
Sheʼs pretty, really.
I turn and a finger is pointed at me, but not -
it is far off and direct so I feel widely unseen amongst
the sounds, the flicker of the projected image, a
strobe…
and an airplane?
a radio announcer?
Screams?
Do I hear the footsteps around me, or do I feel them from my soles?
Sniff. Rip. Oh,
sheʼs screaming at the top of her lungs
" or choking
" " or gasping
" " " or moaning
" " " " or-

Tears well and I think of gasping and choking and moaning and screaming and
it reminds me too much of my seizures. I have to walk out. I find a black bench of
fine leather, around the corner, two side-by-side, I in the corner; I donʼt want to be
the guy crying at the exhibit, but itʼs too late.
“Why do people feel like they want to cry in front of her,”
she asked me two days earlier?
local relations
I answered
something about them
carrying something
around with them
that the motion of daily life
kept at bay
mobile energy

seizures.
I had seizures.
Uncontrollable seizures.
I moaned
and groaned
and arched back like her
“What is happening to me?”
“Why is this happening now?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Am I doing this?”
“How do I stop this and save myself?”
“Who am I, really?”
parsing
I chant to see more of my life, partly because it has seemed to fly by
“The captain has turned off the fasten seat-belts sign” and I
open my eyes and realize Iʼve arrived
no idea where I am;
“Will there be anyone for me to go home to?”
Iʼm mourning the loss of my boyfriend,
of a strange feeling of “before that Saturday”
of a feeling of youth, of the David that “escaped
unscathed.” Reality is so much more gruesome -
it begs for its punctums…
I only know that term because of him. damn.
no predicted end

“Iʼll try again.”

When I round the corner
the womanʼs head turns
our eyes lock brown
and I think that Iʼve been caught.
Pema calls it, “nailed on the spot.”

I donʼt stay long at Freeing the Voice

“You look lighter,” she said.
“I had a lot of stuff to shake-out,” I said with a grin;
“no need to concern yourself with me,” I telegraph.
Freeing the Voice
Freeing the Body
Freeing the Memory
microscope, syphilis,
(blink, blink, blink, blink)
rosemary,
(like Jamesʼ hair this morning)
beach, rocks, hollow rocks,
undergrowth,
(no one could accuse you of not working hard enough)
The Newport Jazz Festival,
 (canʼt go further… stop…)
hazards, skull,
pliers, wrench, French charm
Shakespeare,
(What a piece of work is man)
(To be or not to be)
poison, arsenic,

A fan is pointed at her face

and her mouth an opened
orgasmic site - little death.
“END” written across the forehead.

Rhythm D -

INSTRUCTIONS
THERE ARE 72 OBJECTS ON THE TABLE
THAT ONE CAN USE ON ME AS DESIRED.

PERFORMANCE
I AM THE OBJECT.
DURING THIS PERIOD I TAKE
FULL RESPONSIBILITY.

DURATION
two months shy of two years, right?
extended vulnerability
taking risks

I see sharp
objects and I remember the moment
I touched the kitchen knife to my throat
“no, wait a little while longer for the meds to kick in”
and then, nothing.

I TAKE
FULL RESPONSIBILITY.
I accidentally stepped on her toes as I passed
through, “Oooh,
Iʼm sorry,” I barely said.

Andrew: Your fingerʼs too low. Youʼre sweating.

Your eyes are watery. Youʼre in a cheap suit.
You look so - human. Did I ever really notice your
jawline before? And sheʼs not the asian - is that good?
primary reactions
no repetition
self-selection

Itʼs darker in here yet I see a bow and arrow

pointed at a woman,
“DONʼT LET GO!,” I want to shout.
...but then the two are slapping each other…
“IT WILL END!,” I want to tell them.
And I feel my left butt cheek and hip sting as they are
lock
lipped
suck
blow
intimate
space.
And itʼs too much; do I
hear my footsteps or do I feel them from my soul?

But before I explain

You should know
Sometimes the
double weight of
their own body
(silent black pool by pile of bones jagged death bed)
screaming
! or choking
! ! or gasping
! ! ! or moaning
Can I lay down?

I see a field of naked men thrusting bare hips into the earth
-they donʼt
stop
and I NEED THEM TO,
I think. “Is that all there is,”
Peggy Lee sings:

Then I fell in love, head over heels in love, with the most wonderful boy in the world.
We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other's eyes.
We were so very much in love.
Then one day he went away and I thought I'd die, but I didn't,
and when I didn't I said to myself, "is that all there is to love?"

I need to go
spiral
circus
funhouse
fright house
screaming
! or choking
! ! or gasping
! ! ! or moaning
gone, laying in the bed/ Nude With Skeleton
gone, hands cup and crotches get shown/ Balkan Erotic Epic, Massaging the Breast
and two men laugh
but this is serious,
Marina carries a skeleton on her back, black, on
black fire escape not seen
will I ever know the story of what happened?
Sheʼs out of the lab coat
and dancing in a dress black, on black, with a red scarf
seductively -
You canʼt stop can you?
Time wonʼt let up.
1946
1960
1970
1975 -
remember the years when you were together?

A mountain for every artist, …

combination … creates…
a ... else …
and the most difficult thing
was …
problems.

no rehearsal
“I hide in front of everybody,” she says,
and I understand.
The she is a he
with a special seat - and long hair.
The Japanese man in front of me pauses,
his mouth open, and
woman
pulls at stray stands of hair
as her pink glossed lips gleam;
there is so much luminosity.

REPERFORMANCE, REPRESENTATION, REFLECTION

2005 AND BEYOND

tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…

tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…

Hhhhhhhhhhuhhh, exhale, off of the feet

black bench
smooth leather,
side-by-side
Iʼm hot
my skin feels
f f f f flushed
(gulp of a swallow)
as white liquid dribbles
down her dark dense dress.

THE END!
Sheʼs clutching thin sticks of wood.
WHAT ARE THE THINGS WE TAKE WITH US
FROM OUR EXPERIENCES?!?!?!

...THEY PERFORMED ACCORDING TO THE FOLLOWING IDEAL:

" " "
Presence.
Being present, over long stretches of time,
until presence rises and falls, from
Material to immaterial, from
Form to formless, from
Instrumental to mental, from
Time to timeless.

I went back down

to say goodbye
with tears in my eyes,
my breath held between
my first and third ribs;
oh, so thin sticks.