T O M M A N D E L
A N N E X P R E S S 2 0 1 5
With Naked Effect, A Violent Event
Why do the spots that mottle your skin darken beneath your gaze?
Why over time do the edges of your screen turn the brown hue of sun-burned leaves ?
Why do insects burrowing through clods of earth alter in tint, shade & pattern as thoughtfully unthinking & diligent they tumble under the roots of weeds in your field?
Why do many letters open at the top as if asking you to “fill me from above”? Why do the dead change so quickly & so much, when the living change so slowly
& so little?
Why do other letters close around words, as if pretending not to know empty from full?
Why do you stand shoulder to shoulder with a friend & hand in hand with a person you imagine, one you hope to meet?
When you close your eyes – then instantly open them again, -- why does so little change?
Why, when you hoist your old Topcon, do the heavens dim above your hat?
Why do a few letters face down, & the even fewer left face away as if an eye having moved past a letter would no longer recall its shape?
Why, when you switch off the lamp, does the room go dark, & darker still when you switch it back on?