Soft Rock / Strange Trouble

about what is not here is what is ripe for attention is what is all too much is like night like nothing if not light hot red hot seared open well hotter well hotter now well hotter here closer to the middle hotter a wet finger smoothing a seam a seamless, seamless transference from volume twelve to volume nil volume nil to volume twelve delve deeper in to a lightless hollow cut in two to no no down to basically nothing but a reflective pool but a dry craggy depression thumbed deep in the ruler of history exposed in its own shade that is sediment compacted then cut at a likely cross section making somewhere new to hang out some place else to dive in to for the night somewhere new to split from when I’m nothing if not cut in two somewhere warm for convening / convening in the hole in the hollow the whole gang is here smashing swilling shouting sounding out an echo seeking an echo coo hoo coo they say what’re you up to to-night well there’s dinner and then well then skip school and climb into the hollow with us we’ll all go everyone’ll be there there’s no data coverage but it’s good to talk in the hollow we hear ourselves reverberating with the walls like the movies like television I prefer things that reflect myself back to me even just a fraction a fracture of something like what I call a life these walls are old never seen before though do you like the fresh new paint job how do you like the new decor

do you drop a strange beat?
do you drop a strange beat?
do you drop a strange beat?

do you?

\ O are you still O are you still now O be still don’t be a strange trouble but steady for a second / it’s getting late it’s getting late / to get back home follow the broken line up the ways take a hold a strong firm grip it’s best with some chalk clapped follow the em dashes and reach out until you start to see your limbs again then it’s easier more intuitive \ I look again and think this is not my arm! just some reverb this reverberation listen it sounds just like theirs over there our arms are bouncing around and offering themselves as transplants / O familiar \ O behold a prism over our mass isn’t it a sight to behold / O make sense to me here under here \ O don’t look up don’t look down / O a thrust means what could be, particularly. You’re engrossed, I’m morose,



Part of the Art Writing 2019-20 contribution to 12-Hour Non-State Parade International Symposium, Cooper Gallery, Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art & Design, University of Dundee, Saturday 30 November 2019, 11am – 11pm.