Infinity Plus One

after Terry Boyd

This day allotted red

sun. Control


a son borne

the shivers. Remember I replaced

the river a whole

strand of waterway. Overlap Do you trust human error.

Nervous the line.

Operations a texture

below our given circle

a calm row of pattern

when we straightline

the audience. A small

function where we close

the fabric.

I once shaped liquid path

Then golden river

into mammal.

Then blue sore

spreading from center

towards the crowgray rain.

But There Are Limits

after Terry Boyd’s ‘But There Are Limits To Our Human Ability to Even Conceive Greatness’

Do you trust allotted human error

a frayed

day with a nervous

line which makes a road

To fill a red sun Controlling

texture our given circle

do you trust another

for bridge

where we error the fabric A son borne

the shivers

I replace this golden river

in a whole strand of waterways shaped into a mammal

A calm row of pattern a nervous line could

provide in times of calm, in times​

below blue

sore spreading center

To Even Conceive Infinity, There Are Limits (process notes)

I work in Huntsville, Texas, for the second largest employer in the city; the largest employer, the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. I don’t know what it is about the threads (layers of wildness) which remind me of my daily life. Automation/repetitions and their relationship to constraint. What that small space could push me to access and re-visit. What kind of small and broken story the patterns might start to surface

What I mean is that I am and am not thinking about the prisons – a weird overlay, a daily dust I edge around. I meet it in my students – what they talk about, how they grew up, small disturbances – and I do not. I often hear about an execution in the aftermath and then drive back to Houston.

I’m unsure of what is pattern, what is random, what is interruption. I don’t know any backstories.

Sometimes on approach, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. No one’s voice speaks through or to me. I wait and wait for results, for machines, for reactions.

What I mean is that I feed one line into another, use replacement as a way to unearth something beyond recognition, to bend and bend an abstraction towards a tension. A story made of machine.

Often times it is me waiting for a pattern to arise, a creature out of the funk, saying – may you be happy, may you be safe. May your heart continue to hold a logic, may your access never waver.