“Untitled (Carol Bove)” & “Next,”: Two Poems
Untitled (Carol Bove) the world is all leaves. the leaves cover everything. everything is a shade of green. God. there is a yellow square. God. there is a yellow square. God. there is purple. God. there is a green circle. God. there is an orange diamond. God. there is a brown egg. God. there is a sky blue portal. God. there is brutalness. God. one of these things is naked. God. there is a knife. God. there is a cleaver. God. there is a plaqued dog tooth. God. there is a star. God. there is chantilly cream. God. slam. God. there is a glass of water. God. slam. God. slam. God. there is geometry. God. there is a scream. God. everything is adjacent. God. adjacency is love. Next, A spell to find your way in a new place. Start from what is your home. A home can be anywhere you are in. Walk five blocks in every cardinal direction. Pay attention to where you go. Take your time. Use your feet; open your eyes. When you have seen the essentials of every direction, start collapsing space. Pick up each corner like a fold in a blanket and tuck them. Iron kissing space flat again. You know this block, but what is next to it? In between two places you know is one block and another and another. Make attachments and pin them. Right angles and repetition are your friends even if it is slow going. You can accumulate recognition. Stitch points together to create an adjacency. Remember how globes are different than maps. How much easier things are without curves.
C Green (they/them) is a Vermont-based farmer, choreographer, and writer. They are moving back home to Brooklyn this year and expect to feel thrown for a long time. Their work is spacious and filled with a commitment to vigor, gesture, and life. They make dances about foaling deer, the hunger ache in the hinge of your jaw, and Cristo-masculine scripting. They write about what is in front of them. And sometimes they draw.
