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Archive for the ‘research’ Category

 

Water must have flowed from this fountain at one time, but it’s not my concern.  

 

Beyond what was once the tub of plenty: wreckage of love.  
I am headed there because although in ruins, desire is rumored to trickle down those hollow columns.

 

I make a wide detour so I can approach the Ministry of Poverty from the front.  

 

An announcement from one of the three towers: this is your mother’s love, your national department of finance, and the kiss from an unknown lover — all rolled into one. Scavenged tarps shield you from elemental misery — enough for you to make a fire, fill your stomach from a tin, recline your body for sleep.

Indeed love does live here.

 
 

The sun disappears. I walk back to the encircling compound. This is dystopia, presented by modern photographic media. But if you desire, if you care to look, you can find the tender prospect of love in any picture.
 
 
 
 

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I announce that I am there.  I make a few adjustments; sweep the unsightly into the shadows, move unlikely objects from view.  I even alter the mother of all symbols to coincide with the one I saw as a child.  I claim no feeling for it, only for the droop of its swag. 

I brush the plaque from my teeth and comb the lint from my hair.  I hold a glass of water in my hand as I head in.

The animal makes its presence known, bellows as I walk by.

And the uncertain maw — it seems to contract.  I crawl into its womb with hopes for a peaceful sleep and an eventual return to consciousness. 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

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Of the postcards from my collection, I’ve chosen a few to intermarry variously. There are four characters: a Sudanese ‘Dervish,’ an Egyptian ‘Fellahi,’ a second Sudanese ‘Dervish,’ and a more generally identified ‘Arab.’

The postcards are all from the 1910’s and could safely be called colonial. Colonial photographers, while choosing beautiful faces to look upon, would categorize each — often incorrectly and presumptuously — by race, tribe, nation, and publish their finds as postcards for collectors and armchair anthropologists.

Heretofore unpublished friendships defy the colonial gaze:  they are eager, attentive, long-awaited to my eyes.

 

 

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The after/before picture of a bedouin woman’s chin is plucked from a website offering the services of tattoo removal, hair removal, cellulite removal, botox and microdermabrasion treatments, wrinkle fillers, and chemical peels.

FAQ: Is it possible to to remove all traces of class, race, ethnicity, nation, the scars of war, and heartbreak — using laser surgery?

tattoonotattoo.jpg

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lowering the voice

 


nasalization

 


prologation of the voice on a vowel

 
 
 

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Goat

  • one goat 
  • 1 pound butter
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • black pepper kernels, coarsely ground 
  • sea salt, dirty
  • juice of 3 lemons
  • 6 cloves fresh garlic

Simmer butter, lemon juice, pepper, salt, onion and garlic in a sauce pan for about 15 minutes, until the flavors have had time to blend nicely. Wash the goat with cold water and pat dry with a towel. Place goat in a large pan and ladle the prepared sauce over its surface.  Cover and cook for four hours. Baste with the butter sauce until tender and done.  Serve with steamed rice and fresh greens.

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At a very tame gathering of guests, I attempt to entertain my viewers. In one hand I hold a storm, barely able to be contained. With the other hand, I count on my fingers the minutes left until my contents are spilled.

explanation-of-the-postcard-phenom-sm.jpg

At five after, I can feel the change in temperature. I can barely stand. I give a heave and pull back the curtain: we are wilderness brimming near bursting.

practical-display-sm.jpg

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