Nancy Lupo
window where we

26.03–22.05.2021

falling inverse heads in perforated
ongoing nothings skewers in shapes
treading on bone
so disease and longing
keeping things in shape
by keeping down lines
putting them down at points and touching the birds
set onto
dusky hill
new relationships
those you implore
a swan song for two
what gets consumed and why that hurt my teeth
not so sweet and tangy in the seams
its a stand up
do well as to
decry itself in the face of others
detangled architecture
how it goes away to die on its own
what one can recreate honestly
how a moment and a story
when you justify movement you come to
yourself again
aspect ratio off and fucking its decrying and face inwards while accumulating what is left to track
we would wish for more were we not skewered
floundering on the surfaces of unretouched landscapes
having to give cons to us not so enticing
why cant we have what we want
when you meet people you have to give it up for them
a centerpiece in the way we relate
maybe its not ok
in using the suns rays
in blocking them with your cellophane
who gets charged with, anything
facilitating exchanges in a facility,
circumscribe threats
a disaster in the way disasters go
one to one ruins were found and left behind you didnt know where to go but to find them
behind you under you
excess and spots marking
no use in taking at the spots before the motifs so ephemeral as to make a case for themselves
what we learned in forgiving and elongating
promises to you and me informed by our material
love shared is not lost is not equanimity
i feel only the end not so much in its encroaching but in what it does
makes forget once known truths defenses and burials so specific as to breathe life anew
this oxygen has no space
this way of living is killing my other motives
this window would not be into my
own space but inhabited unrecorded engaging with that so not there as to be theirs
this work was finished before we met
may it be more so when we again

text by Ser Serpas