20140716

Bob Heman


from INFORMATION

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Each part distinct but never more than a part. The grid a kind of logic that adds both position and proportion. Separate captions not understood to be feasible. The title the only available door.


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The words written on top of the building are not visible from the street. The man and the woman lying between them sometimes change their meaning.


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The room of 5,000 sheep. The room of the burning island. The room of the falling horizon. The room of the inflated maple. The room of the distant chair. The room of the unassembled car. The room of the distorted knife. The room of the welcoming woman.


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She was not allowed to talk about his erection. She was not allowed to talk about the way the ocean moved.


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“You forgot to give me one of these,” she said, pointing to a piece of paper in a half-dream on the train.


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Climbs the hundred steps. Or does not. Each was different. Or the same. The voices telling him.


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The coffin maker lives in the forest. The animals are afraid to enter the rooms he makes. Inside of each he hides a word no one else can see. If it is spoken it will allow the door to be opened.


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The light could be described only in terms of light. The man only by comparing him to the woman. When the ground was flat they could only dream about the mountain. And when it was dry they could not imagine the sea. They made a vehicle using animals but they were the wrong kind of animals. They only saw the distance because it was described to them.


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There are symbols we all recognize: the snowman and the pierced heart and the witch on her broom. There are other symbols that are less obvious: the blue hat and the broken bear and the tree that is burning. Each of us travels through our dreams with no more than a lantern to guide us. What we find is only what was left behind.


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Makes words out of flowers and words out of trees. Makes words out of bears and words out of bees and words out of the sea. Makes words out of mountains and words from the sky. Makes words from his hands and words from his eye. Makes words the woman repeats all through the night. Makes words that are only a part of her sight.


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Things such as barns and chickens and tractors all made very small. The sun an assumption unless there are too many clouds. The man and the woman arrangeable in many different positions.


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One learns how to do the laundry. One learns how to sweep the floor. One learns how to fire a gun. One learns how to hammer a nail. One learns how to drive a car. One learns how to plant a garden. One learns how to kiss.



Bob Heman has been doing this for a long time. He lives on the west end of Long Island in the area commonly known as Brooklyn.
 
 
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1 Comments:

Blogger Raymond Farr said...

These poems are flat out right on. Yr vision of them is so clear & just this side of a biopsy!

12:20 AM  

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