Issue 8 – Summer 2005 – Jennifer Burch

Jennifer Burch



Not hearing or following, who could be of general help, running out naked, turning back, fearing toil? Tracing in lieu of a signature, marking an ear for ownership, or plumbing depth with knots along a sounding are as odd distinctions and appraisals as formations. Their prominence is a record beside the point, so someone may be swindled. The King of Cornwall, for example, the husband of Iseult, and the uncle of her lover Tristan. Or us, because the hollow of a horse’s tooth will tell its time, but our alternately moving feet suspend us.




Symmetry operations, glide planes and screw axes might occur in an extended object of repeated patterns. These are the room’s translations, so I keep moving. One spot elongates, another squats, but they belong to a system or relation of systems. Colors and luster are all that can be seen of the parts holding together. The walls appear to grow fast in all directions, wearing the habit of plates, but only fracturing could tell. If inside are blades and needles, the arrangement’s order deceives. Either there’s more than one basis and a whole network of lattices, or I’m looking at glass. 



Jennifer Burch lives in Brooklyn, New York. Recent work can be found in Sal Mimeo and Verse.