315 Gallery | April 1 – April 25, 2015
Who’s afraid of endless squares that sing independently,
Black chromatics that blaze high above the floor?
Each member of the tribe longs to separate himself,
Herself as soon as possible.
Distinctions from yesterday are barely recognizable today.
Masses move across the planes to their outer edges,
Defy the various shades of the night landscapes that
She saw a year ago.
Sometimes they conceive a crucifix that imparts
Deep mournful gestation.
At other times, transparency conquers opacity for
Spatial clarity. Slipping, sliding, migrating, puncturing
Is all suffused with utter calm
Before the storm on a far away ocean.
Here I see vertical form stretch beyond the sky and earth.
There moonlight hovers over a specific field, black and abraded.
Gestures articulate what occupied between
Confident flatness and occasional atmospheric latitude.
Emphatic density at times pressures innumerable
Justifications as to why things resist appearing as they do.
Squeezing, dragging, skating, scratching, buffing,
Scrapping if necessary—whatever means
To start again with a clean slate
The preference is simple: liberation of the mind will
Dictate the habits of the body;
The gravity of nostalgia alone discourages us
From embarking on a new journey.
Why fear the asymmetry of darkness?
She can navigate it with her eyes closed
Through the touching of hands
She has finally found a space she calls home.
Phong H. Bui is the Publisher and Artistic Director of the Brooklyn Rail.