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Simon Taylor

Simon Taylor

https://orcid.org/0009-0008-6687-4647

SEVEN ELEVEN (November 2001)

SEVEN ELEVEN (November 2001)

one I don’t know how long I’ve been talking for, an unexpected fit between durations of desire a word from the ghetto, from the garden, a word rich only in the shame of its associations too poor to unpack words that wear just the skin they stand up

NOTHING LEFT FOR THE MIND

NOTHING LEFT FOR THE MIND

the cemetery of principle, part 1 (link to part 2) Nothing left for the mind Nothing left for the mind at the cemetery of principle Nothing left for the mind that some poet hasn’t mushed up and served you Like baby food Not even loss that hasn’t been

SIMPLICITY

SIMPLICITY

(see also POVERTY) I Man’s estate is war And man and woman’s estate And the cancelled place of race The history of the senses This theatre this Nuremberg, Abjection is to feel And the monuments to touch And the monoliths Are kissing on me Pressing on me a

POVERTY

POVERTY

(see also SIMPLICITY) I Who’s left to destroy what is important? Flesh that is the pinkest is turned up To the light and The hurt done tonight will be Done The glass slips through your fingers (Giving, I can give you Showing, I can show The material fact) A

the classics

the classics

eros I The angel came again Past the ivy-shelled house Only a day after The photograph was taken In this embrace Can't you see? We're dying In certain pictures of the ascension She looks at him Over the shoulder of a lover Invisible The only clue

revisiting butoh

revisiting butoh

Marisa C. Hayes on Butoh Workshops at the Kazuo Ohno Dance Studio Walking Towards Authenticity: Butoh Workshops at the Kazuo Ohno Dance Studio Emotion must be ever present, full blooded emotion. This finger here can provoke an emotional response. - Kazuo Ohno Throughout the 1960s Kazuo Ohno, alongside Tatsumi Hijikata,

recoil—a kind of record: in 31 weeks*

recoil—a kind of record: in 31 weeks*

I. we all looked and could see nothing what are we supposed to see what are we supposed to see the inexhaustible the inexhaustible horizon torn from our hands Valéry said I cannot repeat don’t be so dramatic the sun fell in time the sun fell we spoke of