'I am a human of Martian origin straining to overween and overhear and understand and undergo and survive and surround and surrender to no one and then to everyone, that, a mere fiction: sheer universality, post-terrestrial, pre-alluvial, de facto, anomalous.'
(p17, from A Human of Mars)
**
'Pity combatants on the line who self-concretize, becoming paving stones
but I say too loudly that of which I don’t know how to say enough
borrowing transcription from a local pebble held in a palm
from which a puppet tugs as if pulled by the revolution of the planets
Mercury Saturn or Mars over nearly twelve and a half million days
marking time, which is the subject matter of history
in which the sun itself bakes the bread then drawn from the oven
and cooling under the proprietary nakedness of the caustic trees.
So, asked a bee of experience, how is it that umbrellas are raised
against the future of the sun? Remnants of the past
don’t expect us, remnants of the past didn’t foretell us.
Our songs are sonically shattered over shortwave by a scop
singing the praises of his patron, the racist acquitted—he nods
and mongers the derelict pattern, a never vanishing world.'
(p37, from Time of Tyranny)
**
'A work of art incurs a debt, owed to history and the times that carry it; the artist can never pay it, but, presumably, assumes that others will do so, or at least could.'
(p72, from Ring Burial)