| LA | NY A Special Edition of The East Village Douglas Messerli Away for Amelia Rosselli Your figure fades into the shut I pretend is space. Your substance in its absence becomes more real every day. The icons don't respond. At every symmetry I see your mouth kissing its escape away. They say you have lovely lips. Recast or withdrawing the footsteps of regress I try to imagine you hanging just a little to the back of the photograph we didn't take. In a snap you never get decision to admit its determinents. Each door is an obvious distraction. Verbs, I want verbs to take me away to where you are said. But I don't believe it anyway. Down the street I just saw your back! But still you haven't arrived before what was surely to have been my after. It's like some sort of plot in which there is no action. [from Marcello Frixione and Tommaso Ottonieri] August 26, 1998 Next |