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Monday, September 22, 2008

Jiří Mědílek, Krajina

for J

‘When you present
absence in your

paintings, then it
is unfair to say

what is absent.’

turns hyperactive
and there is no calming it.

I can only aspire
to degeneration.

There is no decadence
left: I have

dissipated myself
for nothing. Our former

ragged-edged clouds
scab and flake off the sky.

The horizon has gone
to live over the hill.

There might be colour
or there might not:

what transcends appears
out of reach and

falls through
itself, a knot turned

inside out. Briefly
zero gapes

and the sharp
end of an asymptote

stitches up
its shocked eye.

At home too long
behind my own

I wear the face
of the earth: I blink

and the earth
comes with me

into the dark.
Do not think

of asking me what
I have failed

to paint. You’re
looking at it.

It is right there.

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