The End of History

The End of History

Let us remove all history.
Let us erase all tradition.
Let us purge ourselves of every story
until we arrive at this moment…
Adrift, but free of ancient ties.

Let us round all edges.
Let us soften the contrast between us.
Let us muddle all hues.
Let us blend in, fit in and slide in.
Let’s let everything go until
each and everything about us is
going, going…gone.

Nameless Historically Ambiguous Art

Historically Ambiguous Art

 

Let us forget the names of every bridge.
Let us forget the names of every street.
Let us forget the names of every building.
Let us forget the names of every river, stream and creek.
Let’s not rename but un-name everything.

Let us void anything referencing any moment
from any past anywhere at any time.
Then we’ll meld together and hum.

Let us make music into a single note…
A buzzing droning sound without words.
It’s what we’ll hear in our heads
after we’ve freed ourselves from history.

Let’s unburden ourselves of words by severing their roots.
Let’s excuse ourselves from all languages.
Let’s build another tower of babble and hum.
But then, what is that?

Aldkfji ierjddl adlfkd oeirue
oeiruei sldkfjv aodif, alsdkf.
Eoridk lsdfkjdk aldkfdk irkrp,
oeik oaidfd ldkfdjdk.

111000111000111000
00011100110011001100
110011001100110011001100
000011110000111100011100

Gregory Zeorlin 5/11/2017 @ 7:33am

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In Transit

As an artist, I find there are no routines to embrace the day after the new year begins.  Going into the studio holds no promises. What I see, or eventually hope to see in that space depends on my focus and resolve. There is no repeat customer appearing at the first of each year.  No one awaits the “new and improved” from my studio. So the pressure I feel isn’t associated with academic art school schedules or production/manufacturing deadlines. Pressure stems from having many ideas and questions which lead to the next piece of art being made in my studio or poem being scratched out on scrap paper.

If you didn’t have external deadlines, what would push you on?  I wrote a poem related to this question titled “In Transit.”  The image included with this post relates to the poem.

As always, comments are not required to read my poetry or anything else on this blog.  Should you wish to reply, go ahead as your thoughts and questions are welcome.  Now it’s time for me to get back to work!

In Transit