THE LEAK, after Francis Alÿs

I will walk in a city. I will walk
In a city Over & over Over
The course of 7 months, each day
Feeling the inner warmth of pain
As it breaks the ice of every muscle

Walking through photographs and notes
Of Doc Holliday, Bill and Grat Dalton,
The ochre notebooks
Of Paul Klee and whomever
Else I either cannot name or face

I will walk in a city. I will walk
Over & over the course of 7 months
In a single day Alone Feeling
The ache of every muscle
As I carry a half-emptied can of lead paint

From which my blood will trickle and rain
Down towards the bluebells of my grave

 
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ENIGMA

It begins as it always begins when the mind has blown itself astray, below the bruised ashtray of New York, New York headlines where– at the top of a Bushwick Fire Escape as a matter of fact– a pigeon pecks at his post, at a... Continue →