13 October 2024
6 November 2024
triple translation
rock paper scissors
paper symphony
ekphrastic but music
voice of paper
voice of acrylic
voice of entanglement
old newspapers plasticised then shuffled
then shuffled off
old friends their photos
rotated, and the fearful stuff
rotated too, I mean
polyester curtains in a breeze
I’m not talking about the look of this
I’m talking about the sound
implicit in the painting heard
as if by the young Stockhausen on his best
behaviour, couturier of paper, gadgets
inspector of the tiniest (imaginary) sound
in any locked library in the dead of day
the glyphs imprisoned, struggling to escape
but no sign of effort, being
locked in ink and no help coming.
reading something is not thinking
like it does. the textual artefact, I mean
is a machine that thinks
whether or not you
suck its black and curling flesh
choke on its sound, trick its
tiny Turing legs
to trip their light fantastic
down the gullet of what
you thought you’d left behind
but wait, the new word, born
this morning, by all evidence
canonical mosh and butter
(liberally applied) it is not…
there, there, calm down,
its karmic fluid when supplied
smooths egress for the neonate,
there’s nothing like it
this side of kingdom done
what once was dust
and once was dirt
and once was in the news
it still
is here