Author: [[Abe Brownell]] # Performance Notes - Wonder where you're going. --- # Poem I bought three triangles yesterday I can't stand to become any more of a shape This one shows me on all sides where I can't see out any They all point inward on the edges of breakup The mechanics are all honest They keep their wrenches to themselves and don't fix much Just ask: *Where are you going?* Trace fingers over the edges of      Importance      Razor blades      The right or wrong way      on edge or along the other way I terrify myself at the prospect of      cutting in      unalive      ambition      carpe diem      cutting out Shy away from determination I won't say for living, I won't say for unalive How could you go on like that? Right, the shape Here I am again in Euclidean space With a stitch in my lung and a frown on my face I breathe on empty Inhale alright My body is a temple Prefer to sleep outside What I'm talking about is Difficult to talk about "Cut out in regular polygons" is easy to explain Euclid is a hellscape unto himself Here are more shapes:      Indigent      Sharp      Triangle      Doomed      Corrupt      Worthy Here are fewer shapes:      Risk averse      Wanton      Deliberate      Entangled Here is one shape: I bought another triangle yesterday I settle into shape yet never arrive The ending always shifts The future keeps it alive I am bound to my planet My ship of bone, juice, layers, and skin I have gone beyond and below I arise from the earth of myself With a stitch in my lung I breathe along the edges of breakup I keep track of this mortal coil I sing to the mechanics with gentle smiles They work on the way and don't adjust I am my own Rubiks and not another's I keep trying to adjust I could be hexagonal and pack neatly And here I'm between three faces or a number Where the shape is Where I left this mortal coil And hung around beside myself My body is a temple I sleep outside The mechanics are in