silver naïf

we need to see each other

somehow beyond

what we each think

or know



we need each other

too much



when you are all

i am



we grow

montage

back when i used to swim in the rug, casting the sheets as my blurred cloudy friend,
i was conduit
i was invincible.
the crumble has been fierce. the ‘brades are tight, but i had never forgot this one thing
something i thought i forgot because everyone else had
but i couldn’t shake it loose even if i tried.

singularly
familiarly
strangely
apart-ley
i keep losing what i knew
and finding what i forgot

in you.

and i must thank you for your struggles
the panes you mend with reflection
with every little verb~
a mason of my foundation

and you’ll never know it
because the walls are too thick
the distance, too far.

and i’m much too determined
to honor what you’ve given me
not to let it go
and spill invisibility in my pockets
where your change still rattles my heart.

borough on the edge of pickles and onions

sill-sat, the boy pondered his uniqueness in the states, of mind, or was that "inkling?" in the rates of continued thoughts, his sentiment wandered back to the plating isolatic imagery painted across mediums and peripheral perceptions. static now alive; organicism victories of token layer. could he eat this paintings? maybe just a taste? wonderfully and richly concentrate didactics of isobaric presence. ' overwhelming fire-to-fire of synapse and sense.
in his ritual wake, his uniform uniquity, this boy feels his earthly return in synonym with his nodded departures.
his mind
knows that he knows that he knows that he knows. a reciprocal turban of seemingly endless exponent.
a letter in the armpit. funk on the bit, and holes in his pockets...
this boy awares his connection.
no purpose is purpose without purpose is connection. existence will hold his hand.

a fly a way to slapper his sensement to the acquilege of his chums, his fellow funktions.

the concrete zipper sows his interpretations deep into the seems of the social batting. fringe finally finding center weaves of decorate origins. the foundation was nice to meet if only briefly. indeed, the boy appreciates the smells of the entire but aunt foundation’s moth mints were not as appetizing as idealized. still a wonderland, still a roots, just not so well olfactored.



"acquilege" is a souped word using these ingredients: acquire + privilege
"concrete zipper" ~ an urban-set sidewalk.

unraveling nitsch

kitsch, notch, nits, snitch, itch – from the online resource word suggestion in the email/word connection i have enabled through the email entry i am typing all of this into.

it is interesting how “pi” exists. how, in a word that feels right or balanced, other words in similarity or rhythm further explain or capture, in exponent, the prime word or phrase/idea. “pi,” because a circle exists in theory even before we “invented”/discovered it. it has always been there. or, it was a latent reality. and “pi” comes from the manufactured or artificial arrangement of a circles circumference and diameter. an eventuality in observation and curiosity. one thing leads to another if relative balance exists and questions are answered in relative forms all the while creating new questions and new answers. ultimately the existence of “pi” is revealed as the layers are worn away.
the same idea of “pi” can be applied to all things. since, even “pi” is “of nature” or “natural”; having been discovered by beings of nature (humans). “pi” is an example of another product of nature. another article or attribute of nature. nature’s “experiment” or it’s latent potential becoming realized: eventuality or conclusion (abstracts of human understanding of existence – because static forms are immediately abstract in their existence. time and change create not end to end but overlapping – so there is seemingly never a static moment. “seemingly” because it is probable if not certain that humans do not have a great perspective of existence-entire. thus caveats like “seemingly” or “relative” are utilized to help represent the cloud of potential and latent elements such as the circle or “pi.”
since we are all part of a whole, relationships are continual. continuum. no end or beginning. connected in ways, indirectly, directly. layered influences.

nitsch is fluorescent lights, it is bodega and deli, and cold cases with stainless steel tops. a scale and makeshift wooden shelves with layered and peeling paint. it is old and continually; it is present and new. glass jars with contents. backlit with culture and comfort. nitsch is the secret notches and divots known to the backs, shadow is envious.
collected dust is a dirt. it is memory. dirty and rich experience. textures high-lit by the present segment. the moment of awareness. the layered and overlapping stumble of perception. epiphany in the closet tangle of christmas ribbons and champagne garland. the treasures revealed in the receding topical; the current sea of possibility. algorhythmic eventualities hone the structure, embrace the foundation.
nitsch is that felt and sparkle in the eye, the corduroy brain in the velvet carcass. stitched and darned it’s days of recognition. the stuffing is tight in its perfection. and loose and torn. it was handmade and tired.
i find the uneven and irregular, the odd and dissimilar, attractive. my gravitations have been relatively and continuously consistent. my whole live (an average of) has been this. damaged is as good as undamaged. old and new – the same. it is to the element of preference that decides. preference, a state created by the gathered experience and continued influences. a box of random collected items that eventually find rhythm and create new forms that enhance existing potential.
i live a life of difference. this is an awareness and not an assignment.
this difference is sensitive and the questions and curiosities it provides for are heavily knotted and twisted. loops of yarn telling and asking of until unraveled. there is a demand, i fall behind the quota, the necessity, the intuitive-urge.
i walk until i float through this realm. a temporary stay. the alley of forward action and notice. there are puddles there and haphazard hoses of gardens and intention. it is not neglect, it is byproduct. it is of the whole, this enriched place.
i am flirting with the environment of foundation. we kiss and create the flow of hidden theory. but we are teased with a touch we cannot have. no embrace because we are nothing in this place. we can only accept our state. an endless awareness, always falling, never landing. continuous and moving.

the nitsch is my love, it is my know. my gatherings. it is clumps of rhythmic experience who have found one another. propelled by genetic beginnings, alignments, and activated by the movement of the mental dynamic. influence and experience are it’s food.

nitsch is the bandaid on the dumpster, it is the lichen on the grave, it is the grass patch on the sidewalk, it is the peeling of skin and paint. nitsch is the darkly scented gaze of gabi. the spiced feeling of her yesterday. it is the see-thru of knowing, the back of potential – it cannot be seen except with reflection. mirrors are needed – glass or friend. seemingly common but not too common. ultimately delicate and rare. nitsch is freckled, it is this beautiful indication, this current that can be seen but not defined permanently. it reminds those who are aware of it of the nature of nature. a reciprocal reflection, examples abound in everywhere. letting us know the lesson is ourself. we are our own medium to mold. our own teacher. our own student.
nitsch is dust in the depression. not easily cleansed or collected. because it is not seen by normal or convention. it is protected from the average of process. but it is there. and can be seen and easily retrieved by those who are already there.

reflection on a core-level artistic context comfortality

i forget the time but it was perhaps early high school years. i had run into the likes of richard estes and the super realistic movement as well as sandy skoglund and other sculptural forms/installations like that. this time in my life also dug into the bag of previous experiences with my dad or at his house (with his art books) and in the exhibits i had seen as a kid in elementary school or with my dad (they, also having similar qualities to my high school discoveries). i was taken back to this time in high school with the george segal exhibit at the nelson-atkins i went to today. i know his work but it’s different to see his kind of work in person something i hadn't had for this expressioner up until now.