THE AUTONOMY OF ART HAS ITS ORIGINS IN THE CONCEALMENT OF LABOR
My heart beat very hard by itself.
Whence this yellow page? Aha! a sun trap, mid-notebook, slept agog. The first word on the yellow page is to be unctuous birdpile. “birdpile” in flight? or grounded (dead)? Meaning brutally dragged in.
And we return to the question of the integration of color. “Integration,” heard aloud, contains within it “gray.” A sludgy neutral fades. Integration contains the word “shun.” I am going to go underground and see what colors there are down there Mines & Everyones. I wake up and write continuously With short pauses
deride and pony consciousness into halflit stable. One rides a horse to go somewhere, of course. The actual is flickering a binary between word and not-word. I said I needed to have the end ofthe word for next. But I did not needit. Next comes anyway whatever you say. I and time were made for/of each other.
Catherine Wagner’s latest book is Nervous Device (City Lights, 2012). She teaches at Miami University and lives in Oxford, Ohio with her son Ambrose.