protrusion fire
super 8mm to HD video, 3 channel
text, color, no sound
2026
fragments of moving
language and color. nonlinear studies in the embodied materiality of light.
an experimental essay poem
1 of 2
I. protrusion fire
season and story say that ( you ) are signaled by crisp-dry zinnias and sunflowers
and blue buds whose names escape me.
protrusion fire, like the heat wave that killed most of the life in this bed.
cobwebs quietly woven into diamonds. stones rustling under my left foot.
the light is pale blue, almost periwinkle. sky above, no clouds, no shadows.
soft_pink_white into the horizon.
up close, i notice the gentle movements of exoskeletons, still moving.
vibrating, as though to say, life is ( still ) ( , ) everywhere.
i am eating a salted pickled plum slowly.
a three year plum and in it, i am trying to taste time.
new sensations are emerging: the mosquito finding the blood
in my right thigh, the soft wind brushing through my hair,
the spotlight from the corner of the neighbor's house,
casting my shadow onto the grainy grey surface of this garden bed.
the bite grows in itchiness.
the dead plants are now awkwardly lit,
and i am sitting underneath them, on the stone pathway.
the plum skin melts.
i bite the seed.
i cannot tell if the ( spot )light is supposed to feel warm.
it makes me notice how bent they are.
the leaning, the hurling and curling over.
the places where the branches have snapped
and the tops are folded, keeled over.
the sunlight disappears and the spotlight grows stronger.
shadows emerge on the insides of the bed.
night falls.
the pink white sky
becomes more periwinkle.
the wind is picking up.
II
night blooming cereus
face up towards the sun
blooming exactly once, at once,
while the bones in my mouth grow hollow
III
i watch our bones decay
while life unfolds
through hollow openings
like sunflower seeds
rogue germinating
in hostile soil