MY DOG & THE SEWER PROJECT

(dog is cream standard poodle/project occurs just outside my Evanston home)

one

no correlation other than the color of the sweater
the pipeman is wearing

two

complete overlay reveals the silhouette
of my dog echoes the flow of gravel
from the heap

three

neither is speaking to me

four

but the spanish of the four participants
the growl and whine of the other

five

both arrived on my threshold
to improve quality of life:
say “companionship” say “dry basements”

six

the dog is waiting to go outside
the men are waiting to go inside

seven

one is named Leo
the other is named by a green flyer
in the trash

eight

the dog follows me everywhere
the project should be done by Thanksgiving

nine

the men seem to notice
the hundred-year-old elms overhanging
while the dog subdues golden leaves

ten

water knows where it is going
the dog shits on the perimeter of the garden

eleven

no one looks up when I have an idea
the project and animal are too full to move

twelve

both are domesticated

thirteen

neither are as beloved
as my children but they live
in the same neighborhood as my children

fourteen

they are both speaking to me
but I am not a good listener

fifteen

at first my dog barked at the workers
but lately has stopped
they probably have an idea about him

sixteen

I have not spoken directly to the workers yet

seventeen

I overheard a big fight between one man
down in the ground where I couldn’t see him
and the other man on the surface
obscenity and walking away

eighteen

I work at home you see

nineteen

my daughter wonders on the nature of our dog’s death
city engineers calculate floods

twenty

I could go on and the comparisons
will keep swarming either way
but the potential for learning is limited

twentyone

but I just checked and one of the machines
is called Water 952
the other Water 955

twentytwo

the dirt they shovel back in
is an amazing color
they could be hiding anything down there
I should be watching

twentythree

I need to be alone
but then I start feeling lonely
because there is no one here to be alone from

twentyfour

the back-up beep
has become a sound in the house

__

AFGHAN VARIATIONS

When I walk and think about science, the arrows become change.
Blood, skin and ideas are related, they laugh together.

Every day, mothers run through my hands and I eat war.
If entrails and text stand next to each other, you can almost see silence.

When I walk and think about arrows, the blood becomes botany.
If mother is everywhere, then where are the entrails?

Every day, hands runs through my hands and I eat my daughter.
Change, monsters and dissection live next door, they are neighbors, I hear them.

If blood and skin stand next to each other, you can almost see the ideas.
If Afghanistan is true, then I am happy, but if anthrax is true, then I am sad.

Every day, Afghanistan runs through my hands and I eat anthrax.
If my daughter and dissection stand together, you can almost see my hand.

If seeds equals silence, my life means nothing.
Skin, text and war are related, they laugh together.

Every day, war runs through my hands and I eat text.
If skin is everywhere, then where is silence?

Science, seeds and silence live next door, they are neighbors, I hear them.
If skin and text stand next to each other, you can almost see the war.

____

On My dog & the sewer project:

It's all true. This piece came at a time when I was steeping myself (like an ardent Earl-Grey tea bag) in post modernism, and represents the closest thing to narrative I had done in a long time. Breaking stories into bits! The sewer seems to be working fine, but the lovely dog died from a pancreatic disorder.

On Afghan Variations:

This piece was composed in november 2001 using a mad-lib process, in which I composed sentences with holes, and then created variables to fit those holes. Then shuffled and drew. Then tweaked it so that it read. My inclination to handle tough stuff thusly was prompted by a great process class I'd taken at the School of the Art Institute with John Corbett and Terry Kapsalis. My ability to concentrate was made possible by the Ragdale Foundation.