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Poem

Zali Gurevitch

EXCERPTS from TIME BABA

everyone wants their feet
on the ground; but what about
being in the air; on the ground
in the air; 20:46
 . . .
air-poetry; 20:48

the back on the chair,
the ass in the air,
the legs (crossed left over right)
on the table; 21:03

 . . .
baba – the full in the empty [what
remains after everything is emptied,
the maximum of the minimum].
Piano keys flying
in dispersion; 22:55

 . . .
for tonight
the exercise is as follows
stand for a moment
spread your arms from your sides
now slowly slowly begin
in movements of wings not of
an airplane but of a bird until you feel
you are light and elevating don't
stop the movement
you can go a bit faster now
and start looking for a direction
don’t force your body let it
just think high
and your body will fly; 00:00

 . . .
the moderns and more so
the postmoderns don’t like depth,
depth is an illusion, the depth
of things, deep people, deep thought, the depth of landscape,
of perspective, because depth invites digging,
penetration, sneaking in, entrance,
arrival, coming, as if there’s where
to come, where to come from,
someone to come to, and there is none,
no depth, no secret, the deep of the sea, yes, ’cause it
can be mapped, measured,
stretched out. Not in depth is their interest, then,
but on surface,
the breadth of planes, the folds of the brain,
the open-ended fields, the faces of the page,
let scientists have the outside,
and poets the inside, that is their field; 12:49

 . . .
the curtain is rising: poetry is just
a magic word to raise the
curtain; 18:22

excerpts from TIME BABA

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EXCERPTS from TIME BABA

everyone wants their feet
on the ground; but what about
being in the air; on the ground
in the air; 20:46
 . . .
air-poetry; 20:48

the back on the chair,
the ass in the air,
the legs (crossed left over right)
on the table; 21:03

 . . .
baba – the full in the empty [what
remains after everything is emptied,
the maximum of the minimum].
Piano keys flying
in dispersion; 22:55

 . . .
for tonight
the exercise is as follows
stand for a moment
spread your arms from your sides
now slowly slowly begin
in movements of wings not of
an airplane but of a bird until you feel
you are light and elevating don't
stop the movement
you can go a bit faster now
and start looking for a direction
don’t force your body let it
just think high
and your body will fly; 00:00

 . . .
the moderns and more so
the postmoderns don’t like depth,
depth is an illusion, the depth
of things, deep people, deep thought, the depth of landscape,
of perspective, because depth invites digging,
penetration, sneaking in, entrance,
arrival, coming, as if there’s where
to come, where to come from,
someone to come to, and there is none,
no depth, no secret, the deep of the sea, yes, ’cause it
can be mapped, measured,
stretched out. Not in depth is their interest, then,
but on surface,
the breadth of planes, the folds of the brain,
the open-ended fields, the faces of the page,
let scientists have the outside,
and poets the inside, that is their field; 12:49

 . . .
the curtain is rising: poetry is just
a magic word to raise the
curtain; 18:22

EXCERPTS from TIME BABA

everyone wants their feet
on the ground; but what about
being in the air; on the ground
in the air; 20:46
 . . .
air-poetry; 20:48

the back on the chair,
the ass in the air,
the legs (crossed left over right)
on the table; 21:03

 . . .
baba – the full in the empty [what
remains after everything is emptied,
the maximum of the minimum].
Piano keys flying
in dispersion; 22:55

 . . .
for tonight
the exercise is as follows
stand for a moment
spread your arms from your sides
now slowly slowly begin
in movements of wings not of
an airplane but of a bird until you feel
you are light and elevating don't
stop the movement
you can go a bit faster now
and start looking for a direction
don’t force your body let it
just think high
and your body will fly; 00:00

 . . .
the moderns and more so
the postmoderns don’t like depth,
depth is an illusion, the depth
of things, deep people, deep thought, the depth of landscape,
of perspective, because depth invites digging,
penetration, sneaking in, entrance,
arrival, coming, as if there’s where
to come, where to come from,
someone to come to, and there is none,
no depth, no secret, the deep of the sea, yes, ’cause it
can be mapped, measured,
stretched out. Not in depth is their interest, then,
but on surface,
the breadth of planes, the folds of the brain,
the open-ended fields, the faces of the page,
let scientists have the outside,
and poets the inside, that is their field; 12:49

 . . .
the curtain is rising: poetry is just
a magic word to raise the
curtain; 18:22
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