halloween
at times a work will plow new roads that echo a skidmark stretched out on solemn ground, tho usually when something begins feet first it walks closely, we witness polite repression tap six deep as he dares to say something dignified and improbable while the gestures cackle and the bell tolls magnetic tic tic
1999 brooklyn museum of art, Chris Ofili's "The Holy Virgin Mary," shielded by impenetrable plexiglass and 2 armed guards on either side...the irony evident. that her breast was made of elephant dung and exposed, the accents intensely sensitive. unwittingly (or not) the work changed history at the end of the last century.
i listened at the door, they were right, right round second middle and obviously inspired but i groaned hanging passionate upright tractions and felt gloom swaying in our neatly confidential family as it grew tumultuous. the considerable effort of the century was pronounced with a shrill sixteenth note played paternally and w/o any appreciable discretion, it was saturated w/fatha. it wasnt trying to reach muthur, no, she was on a retreat with strict rules about visitors. can these dry and broken aphorisms get near any uttered consciousness? spent and sculpted to the pose we thought more than we said, in projected expression, crammed into an older automatic sort of soft carved lyrical guard.
the little picked pieces opened a robust forehead gate beyond which education lay moulded, brakes held the furniture flat, the paper almost went serious and closed. leaving artfully thin spirits waving roses. in the distance a warm house was umber and beautifully congenial in the front third forward which shone distinctly and answered rhetorical reflection so simply and lovingly that disquieting traces of dark frantic attitude created an entirely happening poetic, man
vaguely unhappy the morning news ran far younger than when it was planted but made such respectable take that there could be no question, the twentieth abruptly got ready to go and things went backwards with indolent lines off the room elastic
pedaling tight on steep hills swinging baggages will provoke the metallic spokes. riding up to methodical solidarity infinitely jolly to further even an event with some agent, a protocol practice of the curious 'know not do higher unseen modestly' ie "candy hum" (kndhum) and eventually we hope to come to a glad end tea reading.
tell me everything you heard that night the detective said, pulling the bulb down
here reasons are old and seem nameless. the meticulous work was utterly condemned. in a dirty eighteenth street warehouse basking in surrounding moments we didnt think 'lateral' but 'critical' - voiding out to catch a train reserved for nobodymen punctured panelled and pictured. anyone whose hour sank at sunset might find laid bare hands reaching though a wimpled narrow horizon line.
we began to see That Ease was perfectly spacious without any ripe nostalgic remoteness. further, the inexhaustible urge goes onward in magnificent horrible halfway stilliness, and awful pictures bathe up and sell. shouting out about conversational questions when the natural thick answer is a black bamboo brush or something leaving startlingly pleasant and indignantly simpler questions. do you ever have the feeling that everything is just all right? did you get candy?
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