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New York
Cheim & Read
October 30, 2014 – January 10, 2015

Irremediably we became members of the rebellious children seminar.
Beehives, intestinal cocoons, Rembrandt’s “Carcas of Beef”
(That inspired Soutine’s) precede our rebellion.
 “The Quarter One” has pockets that collaterally subsume
Sacred water that feeds the children
                                                             In a chronic state of wandering.

“Janus Fleuri” forms divided selves.
Identical twins seeks to separate,
Hang like fragile cutouts over a neighbor’s clothesline
Some of us can attest our equal weight
                                                             To “Hanging Janus with Jacket.”

                            They’re my children at different ages, heights,
                            Textures, genders, and what not,
                            Trained acrobats by necessity.
                            As “Henriette” refuses to see Pinocchio
                           “Arch of Hysteria” offers a similar power,
                            That of Persius’s shield to behead Medusa.
Frontal “Femme” recalls half the Venus of Willendorf,
Half a fowl waiting to be roasted.
Its back calls forth her identical twins that sought to?
                                                             Be separated they could not!

Hanging upside down has prompted a new perspective.
He is as full and filled—fulfilled as she.
Extending feet appear as vintage wooden shoetrees
Size 6, or is it 7, in Grimm’s Fairy Tale of the shoemaker
And the mythical elves that long to wear the shoes
And pants like those we’ve recently seen at
Bob Gober’s theater in the Museum of Modern Art.
These proudly decline an invitation to kiss the floor.
What a magical moment when an object rejects gravity!

Nearby are the greatest perennial lovers,
Fragments of shifted scales “Hanging Figures” appear slowly,
The curtain of the Boulevard of Crime is unveiled.
In this instance they hang naked without heads
                          Not far from “The Couple” in the next room.
                          Who could fit inside of “Fée Couturière”?
Sure, “Legs” that are made to dance and skate
On and through the silence of a particular snowy field
That we slowly approach in our solitude
Rather than trudge slowly with the snow up to our knees.

How far, how near have we come to realize her magical
Affinity to, bond with whatever materials were
At arm’s length or miles away from here—
They are present in her majestic disposal to become alive
Once more in honor of the goddess of liberty!
                                                             Where do the men go?
                                                             I do not know LB!
                                                             You can ask all of our fathers!



Phong Bui

Phong H. Bui is the Publisher and Artistic Director of the Brooklyn Rail.


The Brooklyn Rail

DEC 14-JAN 15

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