A DUCK SHAPED MUSIC BOX THAT PLAYS SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN IS PLACED ATOP A GLASS OF FLAT CHAMPAGNE BY AN INDIVIDUAL WHO HAS TUNED SAID GLASS TO E-FLAT; THE GLASS IS THEN POSITIONED LEVEL ATOP 3 BIRCH LOGS THAT HAVE BEEN BOUND TOGETHER WITH THREE INDUSTRIAL RUBBER BANDS.

there is a bold, heroic sound within silence
all manner of insects in symphony
the rushing of water over rocks
an entire limb of leaves
tapping one against all others
as the rain exerts its force upon them

soon the droplets will cascade down
from the top
to the bottom layers of leaves
and then onto a supine me

perhaps even before
I finish writing this

“a heroic key, extremely majestic, grave and serious: in all these features it is superior to that of C.”
     - Francesco Galeazzi on E-flat

the silent sounds I hear
not frequently enough
are born of being alone
a feeling of being with my self
but never alone
but always grave
but always serious

I write to you in these clumsy titles
I confide in you
I beg of you with these writings
because the spoken words are far too combustible
in the last sunlight
while you are merely feet away

“The intent is earnest (Fredrikson Stallard want us to regard the table as merely a bundle of logs), yet doubts its own earnestness (it is clearly more than just raw timber). The table is an example of self-conscious inauthenticity, used to critique something beyond itself, in this case, our sophisticated expectation of pastoral simplicity.”
     - Gareth Williams on Fredrikson Stallard’s Table #2

across the night pasture
the dusk light
the latest evening light
last light of the day

illuminates not the white birch trees
on the edge of the forest
and not the trees behind them
it is the drenched canopy that
comprises that third layer back

it shimmers in that
late late yellow
from top to three quarters to almost mid-way

impossibly against the background
of much darker, generally same colored leaves

“Thus the ultimate nostalgic source text is itself a pomo homage to a lost moment. Kelly and Charisse’s ballet redefines the meta-physical, shimmering surreally at multiple removes of time and space. Even the camera keeps a stricken distance; get too close and this might disappear. The entire film is an optical effect of the memory. Those puddles are a mirage.”
     - Jessica Winter on Singin’ in the Rain

now past peak time for rods and cones
inner eye optics begin to
fail softly
now they decorate moss covered bark
and similarly weathered shoes alike
the page becomes a vibration
in pale blue marked with black

my thoughts have gone likewise
if they were ever there at all

“Man is not merely the sum of his masks. Behind the shifting face of personality is a hard nugget of self, a genetic gift.... The self is malleable but elastic, snapping back to its original shape like a rubber band. Mental illness is no myth, as some have claimed. It is a disturbance in our sense of possession of a stable inner self that survives its personae.”
     - Camille Paglia on the self

discussions of children to come
one toast too late
about children to come
too late
as our journey back is just beyond

one I only intend to partake in body
as I will close my self up here with
1. the teak adirondack chairs
2. the outdoor dining set
3. the rope hammock
4. the rest of the house

here lying motionless
one eye open
tracing the shape of the silhouetted birds with my pen
they read black on pale blue
vvvvvvvvv across the paper sky

they read as I sound when an honest observation has fast-tracked its way to my lips and my brain has thought better a moment after the word has begun to escape and recognizing the mechanism and knowing it to be directed at my self I simply finish their indictment scrawling vvvvvvvvvagrant on the page now lost in the dark mess

I am reminded that
many species of duck are flightless while moulting
and that this moult typically precedes migration

[WINE GLASS, CHAMPAGNE, BIRCH LOGS, SILVER PLATED MUSIC BOX, RUBBERBANDS - sculpture]

2011