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wood is only
an imitation
of steel

<this ends the selections from Book 1, Monochromatics>

My new skeleton grows,
its cells fuse to me,
cleave me into a bridge
to a moment when all
that is mechanical will be
traced to this moment.
When all that is, will be,
heaven unknown, and hell
someone else’s problem.
The punishment continues;
the spirit lives. I am
so easily turned;
I grow into my skin.




water demands respect
and water gets it
water kills people
and gets away with it
we all need it
so no one says anything
it frightens us
no one admits it
water doesn’t need us
and we know it


look at your window
do not see what is outside
walk to your window
ignore the room
run your hands along its frame
feel the sill
trace the architrave
embrace the lintel
now open
an entire world

this is your book
this is your video
this is your masterpiece


wood is only
an imitation
of steel


the quantum fact is true
the quantum fact is distortion
it looks the same
it feels the same
copy it again times two
watch the black swallowed
the white swallowed by grey
the image of breakdown copying breakdown
science collapses at its edges
artists love xerox


(This is the end of the Monochromatics, one of twelve. Tomorrow I start Deep Water. 12 Books in a year)

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