Poetry + Photo x Brit Parks
a silver sheet-ed dramaturgy
hands as little as figs beg-ing dirt to have a proper match
that tunnel may have water, they used to think it had gold and died with the same hope hope that a lung will stay is not hope
your knees make us cry and that should confuse you
death-boat has had a thousand meanings and one form
the ocean is safe to itself because everyone that lives in it is wet you are not wet my love, you were not meant to fight a bible verse
I am nervous about my teeth
I am afraid to let you go off my tongue
I keep saying your name in the present tense like it’s a mistake but I am too too Freud for that.
Brit Parks is a poet, artist and scholar. lHer poetics are an abstract of language and non-language as subject itself. She haunts states of ethereum with rarefied and common words, somnambular pressings and fallen repetitions. She received both her MFA and BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
Her work has been featured in the book SMEAR edited by Greta Bellamacina, RINE, and Rx Magazine. Her art has been featured at Vedanta Gallery and Chicago Filmmakers. She lived in New York City for a decade.