Warren Shaw    |    Interdisciplinary artist

1.69 : 26.10.09


We are the breakneck jackals. The Modified Giants. Right here, but definitely not right now. Oh how we ought to know better. Cowards in our own unrelenting grasp. A different task. No one steps before us. Or leads the way. It’s a string of lights with no switches. The ones behind are dimmer but no brighter than the ones before me. But it’s still so bright. I wish she would help me. Where too? Screw back and find you. It’s so unclear. I just want to scream, when you’re not here. I know my fears, the lights lead straight through them. Past the snow and the deer. I saw you last night, you laughed in my ear. Excuse me I’m not your peer. No one ever hears. Hears more than this says or makes it any more clear. Have you ever screamed when I’m not here? It’s relentless, it will never end. It’s not one of my fears, more like my only comfort. I make this up from feathers and tar. Press this up for you to read from afar. Wait I’m stuck in a jar. Select me from the shelf and take me and them with you. We are all here. Stop. Ground yourself in your fears. Step. Step forward. Decide for yourself and then tell me. But I already know that we are not ourselves. Just us. Start. Don’t finish, fall again, late again. It’s time to appear. Why can’t you stay here? I’m afraid my dear. Trains leave, flags fall and all through the night our voice echoes off the walls. It’s time to fall again, fall out the tree, hit the wall and land on one knee.

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