Now that the moment has come back to us,
are we ready to take it and move on? Which
is to ask: Can we? Will we ever hang
by the echoes of what was first said?
And with the spoken are we prepared
to align the written? Which
includes the act itself. Of
acting, in the sense of purpose, events,
enclosure, the delimitation
of a written vowel like a stone dropped
in cooling wax. And
if we are to think in large canvasses,
will we be thinking of the same stories? Where
I have fled from absence.
Where I suffer from the absence.
Where is experience? What is experience
if fleeting? This bold, indissoluble
trend. Because big art
is so yesterday, along with all our worlds. Do
we sit on them? Which is
to consider: do we not? But
to the world, do we say the spoken? Or
to it, do we say ourselves?