Marcella Durand

You ask me in a voice of clarity why the nose
buried in paper and glue when day awaits, and if you
advocate entymology and exhortation. When trouble
begins at the axis of a square and I respond in perfect
golden triangles leafed one after another at the bottom
is a transmission of knowledge. Would I know the
properties of gold if not as exhumation and exhibition?
At the root of each pure act is some sort of exchange
and if you wish to think that base, then so it is basic:
base, french, basis, latin, basis, greek, a step, a pedestal.
Come here, I say, come over here and read with me
this book, ignore for a few hours the intrusive day,
this transient weather, clouds passing over the sun,
deceptions of which we share together here
on this floor receptive of absorption, these walls
interested in loquaciousness, this precious paper
eternal in transcription, we hand each other perception.