from arc to urn revisited...
joan of ARC, whose angelic voice would certainly form an ARCH, was standing in the center AISLE of a BRIDGE. she could see that upon a BENCH in the distance, was resting a small BALL of a reddish color, next to an empty metal BIN, while a BEAM of light reflected off of the glass of a phone BOOTH - a kind of FLANGE of light -illuminating a manmade pile of stones, sometimes known as a CAIRN, at least in ireland. it was then that a small BELL, struck by the spin of a CAM, released its CONE of ringing sounds, comforting her as if sitting in a familiar CHAIR. these sounds brought back the memory of looking deep within the GROOVES upon the surface of her favorite record, and seeing in visual form the impression of a CHORD, whose shapes reminded her of one of the smallest constellations in the sky, known as CRUX. suddenly, a COG in the workings of a DIKE beneath the bridge she was standing upon, fell broken, unleashing a torrent of water into the CRYPT even further below, soaking bodies beneath the GROUND at unbelievable DEPTHS. above the bridge, and the voice, and the dike, and the arch, a DISK of light shone in the sky brightly, like a porcelain CUP. it formed a glowing DOME so powerful that the light pressed into the earth forming a DITCH. this dome of light from ditch to sky, had the HEIGHT of a mountain and the span of a FIELD. joan left the bridge and the flood and the sounds of the bell, and moved towards the dome. somewhere, somehow, as she was close enough to touch it, she found upon its surface, or skin, a DOOR, which she opened, and quietly stepped through. she moved towards the HUB, away from the EDGE, gliding along the FLOOR for a good LENGTH of time. her face glowed as if in a FRAME of fire. at the center of the dome, she discovered a GATE, next to a KEG, made of various wooden slats nailed together in a GRID. the gate was attached to a small metal JOINT, sometimes called a hinge, that enabled it to be opened with ease. so she moved through the gate that was next to the keg, and found herself inside a pool of energy, perhaps even the SOURCE of this MOUND of light, which could also be called a glowing HILL. after a few minutes within the intensity of this core of light and heat, she quickly crawled into a hollowed LOG for safety, keeping one eye open, peeking through a small HOLE formed many years ago when a small branch was broken away. she decided to make a NOTCH on the inner surface of the log, one for every moment she remained hidden inside. it felt a bit like being in a small bag for sleeping amongst the warmth of a campfire, and so joan fell asleep, and she dreamed. in her sleep she saw a SPHERE, composed of PLANES, whose inside was empty like the HULL of a ship. she found herself holding an OAR in one hand, and a telescopic LENS in the other. she was staring through it at a man walking slowly along a PLANK of wood emanating outward from the sphere which was now surely a ship. her lips formed a small SQUARE as she tried to whisper words only to him, quickly, while the others were still out of RANGE. the man, who did not hear, continued to walk a straight LINE, following the length of the plank, while continually making bumping sounds with one of his legs that ended in a wooden PEG. the MAST, as if listening, swayed rhythmically with the sounds of the peg on the plank. as the man got closer to the edge, he seemed to be slowly enveloped by that RIDGE one usually calls the horizon. when he stopped, his STANCE seemed a bit like a statue, his SCALE almost that of a miniature, and the POLE in his hands like a tightrope walker, extending out from him like the bones of a pair of featherless wings. in silence, he dropped into the water, as if into a PIT. joan's face became a PYRE of tears, as if water was fire, tears were flames, each one feeling like a SPIKE driven into her skin, deep and lost, as if the human body also had a massive empty STRAKE within. her SPINE, like a series of small bones on a RACK, pressed against her RIBS, creating an emptiness inside her, like the RAILS of a train track in a silent tunnel. then that SPIRE inside her body, her THROAT, let out a sound so deeply sad, as if an entire SPOOL of red colored thread was unwound and forthcoming. eventually, the ROOF and the RIM of her mouth closed, containing all the sadness in an empty ROOM inside her - a room without STAIR nor THRONE, nor STAKE nor SILL. eventually, she spent many nights in stillness with eyes closed, sleeping. one morning, she began to feel a small ROD of light inside her again - a small SLAB of warmth like a wool or felt blanket. she used the slab and the rod as a kind of STILE, walking slowly upon it, up and down, from darkness to light. she moved out of a TRENCH, and up onto a STOOL, peering through a SLOT in the walls of her darkness to reveal in the distance, the SUN. but as she attempted to move from her TOMB, she found herself trapped in the geometry of a TRUSS, unable to move THROUGH anything. her WAIST became warm and a WALL of fire collapsed upon her; and after many days they carefully placed her ashes in an URN.
Labels: carl andre, joan of arc
