Author/s: Marshall Weber, Kurt Allerslev, and C.K.Wilde
Edition: 4 - one left.
A volatile meditation on love gone wrong and then gone right with a parallel story concerned with the attributes and similarities of human sweat and floral fragrance.
The pagescape is formed in three layers, first Weber
used a Kanji calligraphy brush to apply fragments from the
poem backwards onto the back of the pages, secondly
Allerslev and Wilde did a series of monoprints and
frottage' on the pages, finally after the pages were
folded over and bound with a joined foredge, Weber
wrote the complete text of the poem on the 'front' of
the pages. Thus one looks through the complete text to
gestural and emotive echoes of itself.
Had Gone has Japanese and Bhutanese and Chinese papers: Seikishu,
Daphne, and Hupi respectively. Starched Tarlatan is the page reinforcement. Black YOUTH Ink, Spring Mountain Jasmine tea and gouache, were used for the calligraphy and painting. Also wax rubbing sticks were utilized for the frottage', Dyed linen thread for the binding, Saffron Algerian Goat skin spines, and more Bhutanese Daphne paper used for the covers. Had Gone is bound in the traditional Chinese Stab style with a very pleasant action.
MP3 of Marshall reading "Had Gone" (MP3, 3.6 MB)
I knew he had gone too far
When he tore out my heart
I hate getting wet
And I always wear rubber
but the tearing burst my suit like a Firestone tire
My boyfriend was pissed because I was fucking my wife again
and it made everybody uneasy like a cop with his gun drawn
What with the steam pouring out from under the thin gap of the bedroom door
you couldn't see a damn thing in the whole house
every body was careening off every other body
as we all scrambled to get some cold water to splash on our hot faces
Where are all the damn faucets I yelled
sweeping my arms through the thick billows of sweat
all the windows and door frames were swollen
stuck in closed positions,
unopenable, inoperable, uncooperative
I pressed my face up against the slightly cooler window
kids outside on the street pointed and laughed
"Look at the red faced man", they jeered.
We would all be stuck in the sweltering apartment forever
or at least until something just blew apart
swelled beyond belief and restraint
or until one of us just broke a window with our
fists shattering the illusion of transparency
with a spray of shards and blood
But it wasn't gonna be me
I'd already broken my hand twice punching concrete walls
trying to squash the anger I didn't understand
I think I'll just throw this chair...
It had been a while
but spring was so urgent with colorful stuff
pushing out and crowding into the spare New York real estate
its a relief and a terror to live in a place
where even spring is compromised by its encroachment of space
the diminishing views,
the temper of sweat
the fist in the palm
the gleam of flesh
where's that chair?
The billowing clouds of sweat were so thick
that people were floating high up to the low ceiling
you could discern nimbus, cumulus and cirrus clouds
under the prone bodies
but before the sweat could rain down
a horizontal strike of lightning started the dense smog on fire
it was over quick but who cares?
because in New York every summer every apartment is on fire inside
sweaty heat is so close
moving us all together onto the streets and fire escapes
but I'm smelling flowers more than I ever did
smashing my face into delicate blossoms
snorting up their aromas loudly
and moving on to a different flowers smell
fragrance is so intimate
intimate like the sweat of flowers
like the sweat that mixes with the perfume and colognes
that skip down our bodies
do you feel that heat?
its like the air was on fire,
and did you notice how quiet it is in the living room now?
This Book can be read at Long Island University, Brooklyn, NY.