Bound volumes and shelves of knick knacks, pick out one thing that’s been collected, these artifacts collecting dust from generations of grit and shove, the reverence for space taken by the need to preserve parts of past or try leaning furthur to present the lessons of the future in these long lost items or treasures, the wanted futurism in minimalist senses, these goods at garage sales and the longing and yearning for connection and family, for the frequencies of attachment and that which really matters. Perennials given to the richness of pasque flowers ephemeral passing, the shortness of spring catching glimpses of the same root systems that have always been here, that have always grown the same types of plants for the same sorts of soil. These annoyance strewn yards of old junk and rambling words, Chrysanthemums* by the roadside again and the crushing of darlings to the wanted roses*, these Woodsii aint as purdy though they been round a lot longer…Collective railing for or against the senseless beatings of wings against the captivity imagined in being surrounded by memories, by antiques and reminders there is past present anyplace, anyhow.
*(Steinbeck and Faulkner)
And Or Theory 