Œuvre non datée
A never-ending metempsychosis happens within a life span: forgettingness in the eternal circular return of history + mundanization of agony under the burden of heaviness and lightness all at once
Medium: Artist’s book, Lithography on Handmade paper (kozo, mysterious Medford’s foliage, abaca, cotton).
Edition of 2
Size: 8" x 8"
Year: 2023
In the days of undated works
I’ve been long counting the time of forgetting
How has the warmth of August been to you?
I’ve been missing you ever since the ruslin’ low tides pulled me back to the gone August of permutation
In my days, ‘twas the flamin’ cyclone of summer flying up to be the starfall on your dreams
In my nights, amidst the darkenin’ sky I saw the sun rising up on you.
But how have you been lately?
In the days of distance, I simply can’t think of being me
I think of you as if of an unlived life.
Waterfalls slipped through my hands
Unredeemable
You were leaving.
In the days of strollin’ down and out
Under the living of others,
I was, after all, entirely uninvited
My departure had always been destined upon my arrival
I will leave, will leave, will leave; always live a life of a betrayal and a betrayed
But I’d die within you
Under the eternal shrine of forgettingness
As ‘no goodbye’ was a preordained failed promise
So might it be a thin possibility—a happenstance that’s just a mere hypothesis—that I can still have you within my eyesight,
sometimes.