A wooded, bloodied word,
a dozing
black daisy.
Into you out
of my
head how many times,
out of air and earthward,
bird with no throat, bird unopened.
Unencumbered
of my desire, your arms
free of the frozen stream.
To die into what I am learning
is willing to die of its joy,
into what is
unlimited, is beautiful and honest,
is mine,
is passing from dark, is of you.
Brooke Vertin, Timefold (monoprint, digital prints, tape)
Artist's Commentary:
I think of Timefold as a piece about the mind, one's thoughts going somewhere and nowhere all at once, incessantly inward and outward. If this piece were to take flight and change shape into a sliver of a poem, perhaps it would alight on Sean's shoulder whispering into his ear, "Into you out/ of my/ head how many times."