POETRY

No One Flies Around the Sun

A kind of nothing. A kind of nothing

And then blue. An imperfect, purpling rift

Where a lingering kind of nothing once

Was. Imagine. Now at this point feel free

To imagine as you will, as I age

I’ve begun to realize I don’t know

What you imagine, I guess what you feel

And have considered that my task in life,

But what you imagine, untied to me

In any way by word, thought, or music,

The childspace in you upgraded with some

Experience-cum-wisdom, imagine

From there and then follow your own journey

And then, when you return, meet me back here

At the beginning and end of all things,

Where a kind of nothing and then blue is,

The not-quite aubergine ripening there

As though in the beginning there was void,

Null, Nyx, Nox, nothingness, anything black,

The blue in the darkness coming from black,

This failure of the imagination.

We will fix it, somehow, all together,

Walking back the first light, the first blue rift,

The purple current under it, the red.

And what if we began there? The first blank

Canvas, the inert was, God’s boredom: red;

What your heart makes move. So move and be moved.

by Rowan Ricardo Phillips

Parameters

conceptually speaking

the dynamics of a bracketing

a signage of unknown signals

the announcement of the new renewed

in the space of a mindset and eye window

a glyph and a set of words as language

to another space outside of itself into

a larger mind, a textual bridge in

code for an imagined

shared space

continued

for Lawrence Weiner 1942 -2021

of “The Text Generation” artists

(w/ Holzer, Kruger, Fend et al)

by Patrick Meagher