to categorize we look for green
the noise is constant
Azolla only looks up, poor thing, except when it gets splashed to the side of the concrete pool,
affording it a new angle of view while it desiccates its way to dormancy
but the self is never the same
Then again, I’ve never heard of bowling balls doing a lot of reproduction anywhere else.
the universe sticks together just enough
our minds feel less
except here, I’m in a building, in a natural
via synaptic networks we can even
imagine things that were not currently
in front of us
how will we make something on cue,
tree bark enactment under
yet cloudy, we push nowhere, but nowhere
misty & obscured in unnoticed ways
thanks for showing me the cave! where texture
Can we research nothing at all?
I think nothing is pretty open.
Tough question. “Move or die!” says a climber in the Sentinel Range in Antarctica.
That message rides the gyres to a tepid reenactment of life
amid the dust of lichen on paint chips where
snails get high on magnetic flux from electrical wires.
I can only pick up the stones beneath my feet
and throw them like my voice as a probe.
outside is the leaf, the lung organ, inside is the mud, concrete
outside, the bird, the weather is inside, outside is the control, cognate,
the brain, neither does not stand for,
does not surface
One morning in January 2014, we visited Biosphere 2 together, a site where we
have both conducted research. This piece is composted from fragments of our
conversation, note-taking, and collaborative writing that morning as we investigated
the rainforest, paddled on the ocean, and experimented with sound in the lung.
View the video montage:
Download the PDF of this article here: Taylor & Magrane