| Michael Burkard |
| BLACK HORSE IN WHITE ENVELOPES |
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for mpt Kim's drawing: "Mask" in bed--"I don't want dad to know I'm afraid of anything." Umbrella angel. Suit of death. When relatives want to disappear. The word "erotica" outweighed all the other clouds. When talking about black horses in white envelopes we are obviously talking about very small horses. It is important to tell just how, if at all, the horses died, and to be precise as to whether the horses are figuratively dead or really dead. The envelopes become less and less important. But days later the envelopes become more important in unexpected ways. You realize very deeply they are white, not off-white or almost-white or anything-else- white but white. They are also very small, not much larger than the small black horses. 8 Unspeakable boxes of the small riders on the small black horses placed in small white envelopes. These boxes however small remain good for breathing, fine for breathing, but most of all remind riders and horses and envelopes alike of what a small gift breathing is. 9 Fire is the next time. A little fire to read a little book by by a little rider resting her little horse before she remounts to enter little envelope. 10 Father, dad, do you see how small your daughter has become, if even small for just a moment? As children we often have this strange but adhesive and natural sensation of the small. It colors a world. 11 To color a world: black and white are colors. We realize this now from the lack of black and white films and black and white photography. Together they served as one of the Masks Kim could wear, Donna could wear, I could wear. 12 At the Hotel Vallejo you could rent an umbrella for two dollars an afternoon, death for five dollars an evening, a relative for ten dollars (breakfast included), and a suit of death for fifteen (a special weekend rate). If you rented the whole package you could also disappear for a week for another five dollars. It is of no use to fall away from the hotel or to pretend you are not interested. Face it, M., you are interested. Tell Donna. 14 Outside the hotel are small riders on small horses and a word you cannot find. The horses have not died. The clouds have not died. No one has died or come to. |