Tuesday, February 07, 2006

evening occult


THis is what i did this evening

it's gonna be part of the installation at the art party on the 24th

  • Boston Art Party
  • for details.

    Monday, February 06, 2006


    Last night I had the strangest dream,
    Maybe it’s always been this way with
    New buds to push out the old, clothes
    Rolled in piles in the white morning
    Of someone’s apartment on the 3rd floor.

    Last night I had the strangest dream
    That the coffee I drank and songs I knew
    When I was younger were flowing out
    A hungry inch from pinched brush to
    Pinched paint brush and pen. Only then

    When I slept with him, curled up against
    His flat back, smoothing down his shoulder
    Did I fall into sleep and dream that
    As I get older the dreams keep coming
    True. Only not maybe like you expect them to.

    Last night, the dream I had was strange.

    It filled me up, a cool rush that replayed
    In snatched stepping to a pace, as I strode
    Down the street I felt it making all time a
    Nothing. It’s rhythms compressed light.
    The sun of summer beat on my hairline

    The snow I knew in piles at night.

    In the dream I had I could touch the
    Spring he brought with him, so soft,
    The swinging of a tree, I could touch
    My Christmas party in a room cramped
    From living. Beijing factories. Witches breathing.

    The thousand times I waited for a moment
    With someone

    Last night, when my arms wound round his waist
    Covered in a sheet and the smell of paint I dreamt
    That I
    Was home.