Patrycja Orzechowska

we become entangled
flowing from one to another
we know different endings, we foresee burnouts
we leave traces or we are traces
our particles change places
we like to joke in the constant motion of air
we move thoughts, moments, bodies
we shimmer

follow us
between what was—what is—and what could be
this is where we will meet

(1)
and what if all three times occur simultaneously: past, present
and future? what if time flows around us with no origin and no influx?

(2)
i open my mouth and close my eyes, i come closer only to distance myself
the story seems different when we are together than when one of us remains,
and the other one departs

(3)
in the distant past in a similar incarnation i had the honour of embracing the neck of the earth
it was muddy then, dense, moss-scented, my thorns sank into her
softly and painlessly i pushed my way down and watched how her monstrously hot heart beats

(4)
i sense you want to ask me something
i hesitate to answer
go towards what you want to love
or perhaps towards what was loved
or perhaps sway like the sea, turn into a wave

(5)
deep underwater i grow from polymers
i feed fish and boats with myself—i feed on fish and boats
i soak water, i drink it only to miss it afterwards
i am seagrass—was a brush—i will be surf

we are a chorus of things
how do we know we exist?
because we vibrate

(6)
a tiny trace on the body
a navel of many mysteries
i hatch and birth something
i see hope in me

(7)
do you hear?
cracks, bursts, gurgles
coarse feel, shrill voices of glaze
ringing the moment before breaking
hum at first when ceramic is created
gentle quiver of clay
do you hear us?
we hear you

(8)
that’s us cast-iron cones remnants of clocks
we peep at the world through cracks
we cover ramparts we climb walls
we peer where we haven’t yet been

(9)
yes, you can smell me, i can see you want to, don’t be ashamed
i am not an exhibit, i am eternal change, which smells
changes smell, so what?
but breathe me in carefully, delicately—watch out
underneath the honeycomb patch i have a sweet wound
in the holes i hold the world

in front of you a cave of future dreams
between stalactites and stalagmites
let yourself be sucked by the past
what is what was what will be
what won’t

discover incessantly what is
lost

(10)

welcome, you don’t need to bow in front of me
you can come closer, you can place your feet on the ground
but please take off your shoes
to better feel what i have to say

follow my touch, the texture of my tissue
study every tiny detail
don’t lose your watchfulness
pay attention to context
see how i change senses
the story which hovers around here is not the only one
it shimmers i shimmer you shimmer
between nipples and coelenterates
between the titanium cup and the lip
we morph

lay your hand with your palm down—between us moisture
lay your hand with your palm up—between us times

voyage into the deep with your fingertips
one
then two
five eleven
sixteen
the infinite number of you and me

be your hand
your whole body
be a foot
your whole matter be a body
be a story
about time
times
change senses and roles

discover incessantly what is lost

(11)
see my arms in the shade
see me in extension and add yourself
check what is there and what is not
what question will you ask an object that i am?

(12)
imagine a forest and in the forest us
we are not afraid of your human step
we come close, we look each other in the eye
instead of trees our common memories rustle
we kept people warm, now our bodies need
you to envelop us

(13)
and what if time flows around us with no origin and no influx?

discover incessantly what is
lost

(14)+(15)
when i am sad i think that pain is information which can save me
i only have to listen to myself better, take care of my inner ear
which some call heart

(16)
do you think that sometimes because there is no atmosphere on the moon meteorites can freely
pummel its surface, or that in moon dust there is glass and that
at an auction in new york someone bought this moon dust for half a million dollars,
and mostly whether this dust knows that it is no longer on the moon?

(17)
one of the most important processes is decay from which an opportunity emerges  

we are a chorus of things
joined by desire and  held breaths
rust, resin, whispers, dust
water, clay, future memories

(18)
when we are silent it doesn’t matter in which language
we finally understand each other beyond words

(19)
feel how we change our meanings together
once in past incarnations
without words, nonverbally
do you remember?

(20)
and suddenly through the hard skin you break to something soft
from wet, clayish soil you pull evidence of former life

(21)
and what if we let things be as they are?

(22)
when it seemed that our end approaches in the high temperatures of the kiln
it turned out that it was finally the beginning, time went back or history went full circle
the memory of clay spoke up and helped us go back to our primal form

discover incessantly what is
lost  

(23)
we are standing in front of each other
no: you on the ground
no: the ground beneath the feet
try to see the energy between us

(24)
feel your dry skin and imagine a dry riverbed
at the bottom you will find coins, shirts, buttons, bottles, forgotten bullets
contorted candle sticks and other evidence of eternal being
think of a candle which melted and became a prophecy

(25)
i am like a skin sloughed off by a snake
but in reverse: my bones come from the future
i create a skeleton for a machine
the casing of which i will one day slough off
it will be in a hundred years or tomorrow
or perhaps it was already yesterday

(26)
not to be born but to hatch
peer into the night and not fear the dark
grow poke crawl

we are a chorus of things
we want to make an alliance, a pact
imagine that the world ends
imagine that the world is born
and we are in a constant change
as if in a dance we hold hands

we hold rods, tentacles, chains, nails, thorns, strings, petals

we change places, at the centre always a stage
the earth
but no main parts
clay metal shellac rust
water blood exhale inhale

a day will come when together
we will follow a dark earthy smell
towards what is unknown, towards what

again and again
discover incessantly what is
lost