For Rosalyn Tureck
I watch Eve Sussman’s film. The Rape of the Sabine Women. The banquet. I’m in it - the film. Astrakhan coat in hand. I lament my existence while also lying on the bean bag. Gazing. I imagine being the artist who turns yellow 60s dresses into stone. The Sabines are fighting their fathers. Their brothers. The whole world’s stupidity. It all becomes dust. Sculpted dust. I stick my hand through the silence of the lamb into my pants. The Sabines approve. From the next room I imagine Anonymous descending from my Romeo and Juliet tableau. He’s here. My mind gets filled with desire. We’re going to do the Hockney together. No Velazquez for us. We’re too cosmic for him. The mirrors are good, but the eyes are better. My starship is landed in his.
Eve Sussman's The Rape of the Sabine Women Trailer from creativetime on Vimeo.