Shriek wildly and throw yourself into whatever bottomless gulf may yawn
Aleksander Hardashnakov and Sydney Shen
Opening Reception October 1st, 7pm - 9pm
October 1st - November 5th, 2016

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
They came to the pig-world, ready for nothing.
They asked questions, like: Why the salt? Why the hair?
And we responded with reckless listening.

The boat felt good, carrying us away,
So we proposed a speech: Why were you dying?
They gave it back: Why the temperature? Why the shape?

The rules were tired, but so were we.
Our calves were gripped by spider veins,
Our hearts by erector sets. We had come too early, terrible emailers.

They settled on clarity: Write the events in the order of their occurrence,
and then in the order of their narration (these are different orders).
We nodded, knowingly.

The narrative animates the events, they said. The events
are but poor concretizations of your mood, the landscape,
an idea, whatever. Your plot is a stage, the events are set decorations.

We countered, offering the impenetrable and useless fact of death.
Our requests were simple but impossible.
They said: Facts should be generous.

But the shitty exorcists could only produce from us a round of
inconclusive proverbs: Mother, father, township, etcetera.
The rules, in the end, are only half the work.

- Jack Gross