REINCARNATION CLASH

May 21 - July 29, 2016

China Art Objects, Los Angeles

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I drew a circle

around the plot.

And another

around the location.

 

The nameless raise

their hands. There is a dog

who tilts her head like a bird. Light

on her step, she wonders

if she could once fly. There is a cat

who doesn't remember death,

only flickering in and out.

You imagine her

on the surface, 

floating, as if time is compressed.

 

You guys are my ancestors now? 

My children? 

She says waking up, 

incredulous.

HOW TO DEAL WITH THE OTHERS. 

The plot doesn't answer her.

Her recollection

of facts is ease-less,

fickle. Putting away

the clothes is a hassle.

 

Animal body reincarnation clash.

The animal lovers’ guide to tragedy. 

The emotional person's guide to plot. 

I believe it,

the story

as a story.

 

Plants grew up my blind side

from the wreckage that left me, 

Julee Cruise

and all others

the lions with flowers, the leopards, the snakes

intact. That was when their lives began.

Her singing

didn't stop as if the TV soundtrack

itself was indestructible. 

Tape recording

black box

in the air. 

Only the plane

was smashed. 

 

Your apples eyes.

she/Julee/the cat says. 

 

It is enough. The feeling of

waves coming from our bodies. 

The color of lids closed.

Day of Fate. Dice bouncing out

of a hole in the floor.

Empathy portraits insulation

walls.

 

Brushy parallel lines from plane

window. Cloud

clover. I see

my ego the size

of a shadow of a pin. 

I WAS COURTED BY WIND. 

 

Her reincarnation/How can she keep from singing.

 

She becomes a reclusive at an all inclusive. 

She entertains the guests

and the management lets her stay for free. 

 

She feels completely at ease

wearing beige

monochrome and looking into the mirror

in the airplane bathroom. 

 

She is wine

on a short

plane ride. 

Transmutation

on a baseball cap. 

Alaska. Her permeability. 

 

Paradise. Something blue and green

to affix her body to. Her memory and dreams are one. 

Her cat life is behind and ahead of her.

 

In her version of reality she is organized. 

She is paid to be impartial. She is rocks, 

no country. She discards endings. Believes in solidarity.

She recognizes herself in other animals.

 

Reincarnation helps her tendency for constant solitude.

 

She discovers that there is no pilot

beyond the metal door and wins an award.

The plane wreckage is named after her.

Crowned like a boat, as if it wasn’t radioactive garbage.