And then, to--
I think I have it.
Yes, I do.
This is based on a piece by Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle's "Always
After the Glass House," which is an incredible installation,
and it's along the same theme.
And it's a glass house with broken glass
with a repeated always sweeping, and it's like a loop.
And I was asked to write a poem about this.
Well, what do I say?
And then, it would be projected with it.
So it opens with a primary document from Nazi Germany.
And this is-- it may conclude the reading.
I'm done with my reading because I don't know if I have time.
Time is important.
"The van's normal load is usually nine per square yard.
In Sawyer vehicles which are very spacious,
maximum use of space is impossible
not because of any possible overload,
but because loading to full capacity
would affect the vehicle's stability.
So reduction of the load space seems necessary.
It must absolutely be reduced by a yard,
instead of trying to solve the problem as hitherto
by reducing the number of pieces loaded.
Besides, this extends the operating
time as the empty void must also be filled with carbon monoxide.
On the other hand, if the load space is reduced
and the vehicle is packed solid, the operating time
can be considerably shortened.
The manufacturers told us during a discussion
that reducing the size of the van's rear
would throw it badly off balance.
The front axle, they claim, would be overloaded.
In fact, the balance is automatically restored
because the merchandise aboard displays
during the operation, a natural tendency
to rush to the rear doors, and is mainly
found lying there at the end of the operation.
So the front axle is not overloaded.
The lighting must be better protected than now.
The lamps must be enclosed in a steel grid
to prevent their being damaged.
Lights could be eliminated since they apparently are never used.
However, it has been observed that when the doors are shut,
the load always presses hard against them, against the doors
as soon as darkness sets in.
This is because the load naturally
rushes towards the light when the darkness sets
in which makes closing the doors difficult.
Also, because of the alarming nature of darkness,
screaming always occurs when the doors are closed.
It would therefore be useful to light
the lamp before and during the first moments of the operation.
We are only debating aftermath.
Aftermath, after what once was sewed up
and kept as if transparent if and only.
What a blanking repetition that in its unblinking,
I'm the city of God against the pagans reinforced
smashed skulls with what once always after.
Over and over, it's at the river or the Macbethy hands.
One is not one, one is.
We arrived after Celan got there, always.
Even before there was was.
Ever machinic transparent, we hold up strung-up hands,
juiced and ravaged, 'This little van of mine.'
Incalculable love, irreplaceability, and fundament
of reciprocity after which both of us
come to the show a little bloody.
Magic region of phase space where self-organizing effects
are maximized, that is where spontaneous self-organization
reaches a peak in complexity.
I tried to convince my family to go to Auschwitz
for educational purposes.
The idea of transparency, the 'I can tell you truthfully'
is glassed, bashed, head full of foam.
We put on our headphones and walk, arm in fucking arm.
After this, comes that and the carelessness.
How I'm so sorry for a little cut up, emoticon,
and gun face cleaned up, back out, rinse, repeat, do-overs.
Never, Neveah, Noviodunum.
Well, I was born in Nevaeh, I grew up in Nevaeh,
I learned to read in Nevaeh.
That's where I turned 20.
When you're in the cellar, am I dead?
You're dead.
Useless swearing, sewed-up hand, swept, and weeping,
this jabby of legitimated Eisenstein.
This is the glass sky that I invented in Berlin.
Strung-up gut factories already functioning equally,
tailors disassembly lines of meat.
Hey, Holocaust Chicago, prep meat talk
to Upton Sinclair about that one.
Afterwards, I don't remember anymore.
How long?
Eternity.
I'm glad you grew your hair back."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]