by Suzán Jiván
Watching the aforementioned
seesawing between
bigness and intimacy
in a life-sized silent movie
with a smattering
of computer graphics
while making room
for the future
of taxidermy
with few gaps
of channeling
chills up my spine
with a gentleman in profile
like an abolitionist
in stained white marble archives
etched in vintage firm cursive
with a notable churn
not yet determined
by early research
on countless
stenciled barrels
of unparalleled
sour mash...
