Unbirthed Failure

In 2016, I agreed to participate
in a durational performance art piece
created by an artist that I peripherally knew

I can't remember what it was about
or what it was supposed to mean
but I can remember 
flowers
white jumpsuits
bare feet
standing in front of a wall
and staring at it, durationally, 
before climbing ladders
to pour a dozen bottles of red wine
on the head of the artist

And I remember that
someone I didn't feel safe around
was involved in the project
and when I mentioned this to the artist
they felt that they were in a bind

So I stared at a wall
for six hours
while someone I didn't feel safe around
socialized with many people that I loved and admired
and I listened to the lilt of their voice
and their social laugh
and I marked the time with every bottle of wine
that I emptied from the top of the ladder

Telling myself that everything comes to an end
time passes one way or another
minute by minute 
even six hours in hell

I think about this often
when I want something to be over with
but I find myself thinking about it right now
in this new year, too
when I want to be all in on clean slates
and instilling good habits

This year I feel unprepared
overwhelmed already
wondering about unbirthed failures
that await me in three days
or ten days
or five weeks

I remind myself that time is passing
one way or another
minute by minute, hour by hour
shouldn't I be sending emails
or promoting
or writing poems
or kissing my lover

Everything will come to an end
This year I feel unprepared

...

 

“I’m”

 

a single atom, nucleic and is it the moon?

it’s getting farther away I can’t tell.

At first there was the beginning.

 

“falling”

 

the air and how icy it is, the fire, gathering

two bodies, all their atoms how stunned

and thrilling, laid down, stood up,

slobbered all over each other, prepared for the

immediate present

 

“in”

 

a library, a hotel. One you sleep in but you

don’t get heavy dreams, another you don’t go in

at all.

           A car, another car, a train a feet that chug

you all over the street, window, table,

balcony, the cold air all our naked nuclei

and the neighbors absently, howling towards

the moon.

 

“love”

 

sobbing, crumpled, arranged, disassembled. A

countdown to midnight, a feeling alone.

                                                                 One, I heard,

is a piece of the other and has always been getting

further away; it could be a piece of something

else, but wouldn’t you agree the whole

thing’s expanding and all they know for certain so

far is out there are rocks and gases and water

 

“with”

 

the tastes we awake with, the way our figures

have emerged into this knowingness, their injuries

the gentle pressures and yawning abyss they

can’t rest without; the sweet sweet

sweetness together, the nourishment, the aviation

of the breaths themselves as we release them,

into salty or smoky air, into air mined with

the deepest most terrifying need

 

“you.”