"Where are all the damn faucets?"

Artichoke Yink Press

Had Gone

Author/s: Marshall Weber, Kurt Allerslev, and C.K.Wilde
Edition: 4 - one left.
Year: 2004
Price: $850.00

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)

Had Gone
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 pain 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.

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