Nora Toomey, Angela Hume, Wendy Trevino

MobileInTent: Alta California + Parts Close By, Re-mapping Forms, Trees, Rivers: artists from Oakland, Berlin and Guadalajara push against questions of walls, distribution and ecology.

Tom Comitta, Laura Woltag, David Koehn

EXPERIMENTAL SPACE: an exhibition of scientific phenomena

Cheena Marie Lo

from the chapbook NO FILTER (August 2014)

The physical form talks around an interpretation.

I am floating above my body sitting above two cities, sometimes three when the sky is clear.

The elaboration of community, of a process—unfolds inside an interview, on the Internet, in a gallery.

Movement and relation.

What is happening next?

My horoscope says lean into what is unknown, something about Neptune and water. I’ve been feeling ungrounded anyway.

We have pretty bad luck, huh?

What do we deserve other than luck?

I’m out of practice—writing, being around others.

Notes: skip ahead, no pressure, dead zones, structures, vulnerability, process.

I guess this thing is new.

There are many lines to hold.

Something about the physical form

and talking around an interpretation—

if you move the object it triggers a change

we are unsure of how to interact

can we take a picture of this?

#luxurycondo #rip #yuppie #hipsters #sanfrancisco #getout #tbt #bees #flowers #workinprogress #foodporn #artmurmur #googlebus #westoakland #rabbit #theothersideofthelake #statusupdate #tmi #artmurmur #cycles #lol #tbh #creepwhileyousleep #poundsign #thesamebutdifferent #regram #pizza #pineapples #coconut #streetart #doublerainbow #change #panorama #hashtag #foodie #wearehere #afterhours #processshot #catsofinstagram #fromwhereistand #100happydays #hotturd #supplychainvibes #lifeundercapitalismismostlyanoxymoron #selfie #sentientlife #endlesssummer #blessed #nowserving #affirmations #outfitoftheday #nofilter

Erika Staiti

from the chapbook BETWEEN THE SEAS (June 2014)

“… and unmade boundaries of acts and poems,
the brilliant scene between the seas, and standing,
this fact and this disease.” — Muriel Rukeyser

I.

a black curtain hangs in folds

behind the stage

animated in relief

curved above the background

figures stand wooden, terrible

you and you and me

here and the others, objects

resting in a cave as once curled

inside the belly of the decoy

Trojan Horse

like a tormented lover waiting

at the edge of the sea forever vigilant

silent now but here or when we depart

vanishing takes on a quality of redress

we leave without you / we take you with us

the dragging of history behind our backs

for we march through the thicket with a saddle of bones

and this, the sidewalk, a sultan scrawled

bashed through the looking glass

there looms a violent revolt of being

sultan on the sidewalk

I greet you on the third day

it is no matter

the body form

form builds around

by you and in the others

a charmed space I conjure the sultan

amidst tree swings

a chair in the wind

and my sultan

rather cloaked petticoat, the box contains you

not a gift, curse, not a piece of parchment, there not a jar

inside to be opened, no plagues, disease, perhaps some hatred

of women, of works, of days

the tree that holds a swing is of course the great tangle

leaves and generations, branches

great Gods and Goddesses

punctuating air

non extant to this day

a struggle to breathe on top of the day another day

you walk along a dirt road lined with shit and sludge

the remnants of your history

you drag them behind you

do not retreat into the chamber of your heart

for your heart is diseased

your pockets stuffed with splendor

rotten core thrown out moving window

bite marks all around it

tumbling through the woods

released with force from your hand

chomping on the last bite

behind the freeway, tumbling, a forest

we find you there

your core

RJ Ingram

from the chapbook TWO ANGELS (May 2014)

Angry Birds

[The soundtrack to this poem is a

Recording of The President reading

This poem remixed into an apology

You cant understand the poem until

You hear the poem’s soundtrack]

But the way the cormorant draws

The drops off of its back assures me

My death should come as violently

As humanly possible—I cannot swim

The way a cormorant can swim &

Forget flying—look at these stupid

Hands & the dumb thumbs that type

Love letters to strangers until they

Exhaust themselves it’s all a waste

“Poetry? But Can He Eat It?”

Everything I know I learned from TV

Sharks will eat me & ants will eat me

With enough time man will eat me

I’m sorry I never started growing up

When I learned I didnt have to

A man buys a house & fills it with

1000 things borrowed w/ his money

Exactly ten of those things are books

Try this: I buy a house & fill it with

1000 things borrowed w/ my money

To the dining room I pay the most care

I dont allow a chair around the table

I dont even allow a table & forget food

When you come in to dine just be

RJ Ingram, Nicole Trigg, Truong Tran

APRIL 11, 1954: THE MOST BORING DAY IN HISTORY, an exhibition celebrating inspiration in overlooked places.