Morgan Schuldt


It's not good to be complete...caught as we are between a the and a the...

-Charles Wright

Yard of wreck. Yard of heaviness, of faith. Because we must do something with it all, must decide what we see and don't see. Must rummage the particulars (some bright--the glinting chrome) and sort what is from what, among the flat-pack and here-heap, we think there is. Among the door-less and the dented-in, the rust-wracked and disposable rise, we consider the isness of things: clutch plate, rotor, spline. Gone for good, or nearly? Here, in this liminal space, between use and disuse, another kind of sight. A kind I take part in in which the mind goes over and over what it's already seen. Like this engine block which once held a car idling in place. To see it working again is to imagine exhaust on a cold day trailing off. To hold hands at the edge of a grave, anticipating the warm air combustion makes. Is to imagine systole and diastole. Kinetic flows and motions and speeds. This choice, our only stake in things. For some, how we know we're here at all.

for Henry Schuldt

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