The material defines the formation of space.
The space defines the building.
The building is adorned with the intentions and nostalgia of man.
A man enters a building and finds himself there.
Who defines the convergence of history–the men or the building?
Is a building more real that lives in the hearts of men?
When does meaning exist outside of structure?
What happens to a building without a name
Who must be defined by occupied space
We define a space and the space defines us in turn.
How do external and internal boundaries create a shape?
What shape exists in the space defined by a relationship?
How does a relationship resemble a building?
Is there light inside or darkness? Does the light reflect or enter?
Is the body a building? What kind?
Are we the cella with a cult statue inside,
or the enclosing colonnade, the patio walk?
does desire sit on the chest at night like a cat
ready to jump out in a flash bulb / peripatetic
timber dried martyrdom / tripartite emotion
Watch Out for Falling Ice ( or an electrical storm )
choose standing outside or walking into buildings
like a salve on the hand / horse and buggy mouths
air out clerestory intoxication ( for the first time I’ll say it
I’m not in love with you, window! ) just the demolition
wreckage and stone and dirt dug up from below
the fallen facade and foundation
the house of depression
light from a grey stone
touches neighboring structures
without warmth the sun
resting beneath the pediment window
once possessed notable features
maintains a tired facade
like the coats of winter’s children
dancing an ellipsis through the earthly colonnade
as brothers take them down
without hope or regard for the hope of others
the house of obsession
when you look inside the window
of some other house and see the television
picture the best case scenario
picture being alone and successful
riding the brown line until it stops and a stranger you can love and respect
steps onboard and says I can love and respect you too
picture waiting until winter is over and then waiting some more
what is possession in a city loved by many?
or obsession when the same unwrested opportunities
litter their way to the water
off damen avenue bridge
how long could it stand there
watching the water unaccessible
days held the angle of river
how many men lost control
leaving the city they know
what it is sleeping alone
undisturbed by the sound
passing cars a factory stone
eyes of rebar eyes
looking down from the train
the wet stone the mud
stuck to foundation
excavators move behind
a fence healthy families
feign the act of destruction
as an act we can hide