'Through the hum of black velvet sleep' by Ivana Bašić at Marlborough Contemporary, New York

 

Dyad figures afloat, Finally they are still, motionless Their sedentary shells swath their sides, The core it is tethered to appear further and further away, its arms, exceedingly outstretched, are cold and surely waning...

In this space Feeble air falls rather than fills its gaps As it sinks into softness — all movement stunts turns to torpor.  Pressure surrounds and leaves me hardened, petrified

A sigh fills a slippage that wrings my bent neck This vessel may shatter this moment, or the next  Here I stand within the draining of the light        of will        of flux        of vim  Uplifted, feet barely brush the ground below. As if holding on to it. Belay my light... And the ground is gone.  ....All that remains is a deafening hum, as bodies of dust slowly swirl.