Yes! We are at the collapse.
This paper,
bowlegged in our hands, gives in to pre-creases
and a new arrangement of layers.
A young art form seizes us
with a thin-fingered obsession, like the periods in which Picasso
painted with one color.
Finally! A monochromatic vision!
After twenty years of our lives,
we learn to make something we can’t duplicate
or hand down to others through diagrams.
The manipulation
seemed to be/ tasted of / sounded like…
But we are still afraid!
Of the passivity of paper
and the problem of looking trivial
in its progress,
an accordion of thought
and rose-colored glasses bent out of shape.
We are looking weaker
every day
around the corners –
trying to make new edges, a precipice
to stand on, willing things to happen, organically,
on a quiet street in Chinatown.
In the beginning, we didn’t know what would be possible.
Now, we fold with the neutral hands of a sculptor
who adds nothing
and takes nothing away.
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