Bingo Cento

Holly Willis

B-4, not after

do it now, the work of context

before, not after, you take the art of others

before, not after, you drop notes from the sky

traded for bread and pencils

these pictures rewrite memories for somewhere else

I-1, but I lost, too

a whole house gone missing

my own body a being in ruin

my own certainty printed on dissolving paper

ink smudged by its repetition

and losing becomes its own form of making

N8, the sense you have

in your body when you wonder not how you move but what moves you

when you balance letting loose and claiming control

when you find tools that evince an unexplained presence

or give history a form without progression

innate, that desire to work the zone of the proximal

G-24 people together

can do a lot in six days                                                                                                                                                    

conjuring myths of the future

ideas darting like swallows in the rafters

or threads in fabric washed

sticking in a bloom of yarn

O-2, too much

isn’t it?

the task of writing for visibility

looping repetitions to replace words

admitting the power of the brand name on your own heart

and then seeing yourself in liquefied images

Free Space

my light my window my house

my twin, vanished

blue door bureau mirror

I will tangle your knots

sighs the ghost