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| eric burke |  | 1. In Potentia The acorn loves repetition. The acorn loves the repetition of the day. The acorn loves repeating itself. (The acorn lives for today.) 2. Safety Net Four years ago, I buried myself in birds. Now, it is self-analysis. Two years earlier, it had been astrology. Before that, I don't remember what. But, and I rely on this, in between -- in the interstices -- I move forward into new, into foreign territory. 3. Folk Art What he throws away is recycled, just beyond his will, becomes fixed in permanent monuments, permanent memorials of hims he doesn't remember being -- exaggerated roadside attractions, humble folk art, on view, for sale, to all interested buyers. (For example, his wife remembers, as he does not, to anyone who will listen, exactly what he does in these situations: He banks on his urbanity; he criticizes the crudeness of her technique; he attempts self-portraiture (breaks his own bottles, melts them down, makes ashtrays of them, gives them as mandatory gifts to those who would love him), but nothing, she says, nothing he ever produces is any less crude, so her works remain --unrefuted, unrefutable -- crude irritants for his soul.) | |
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