Description
A poem that failed to be an essay. Film still sketches by CJ Martin. (You will receive one of four different covers, unless you order four copies, in which case we’ll send one of each.)
—
“The first [death] is that of narcissistic birth, of the birth of the subject into an image that, far from being able to give him the sense of life, is the model of all corpses.” — Jacques Lacan
—
at noon, someone is standing. at noon wide open. there is a feral friend & daunting
wood—flocks of leaves, a copse of birds & unbearable lighting. there is whimsy
& then there is harm. the film gets started after the crowd departs, after the figs & the contact improv,
the ghosts of fallen grasses, drowning.
you said, country is monstrous art is merciless, thus
there’s an ear to do, imperfect. we build boats of rocks & then we burn them. you are walking in a film
& then you are eaten. I said, this is a test, a squandered passage & you said not knowing
where any thing is, we move from building
to building & I said what
