Master Harmoniser (ile aye, moya, là, ndkoh) after Dineo Seshee Bopape

BY ALEYDA CERVANTES

all language ought to leave a body as its name slips through waves, murmuring an ancestral memory a slow movement among dunes earth mountain in metamorphosis historical library of unwritten seasons human cries, and all bodies have names wind cosmical flame the water has memory carrying a journey somewhere written in chains and more music comes from the speaker, and my body doesn’t like museums there is pain in remembering knowing time is a cycle of reflections where exhibitions become the only truth tellers But my mind loves art, loves the walk between pieces, the long artist’s explanation, loves to read and google: and i lied waves, lines, shapeshifting from left to right musically following one another and the count of the days don’t matter is morning light the first sign we are alive? if your survival is dependent on knowing or is this when the land is calling us back? all these questions never made it to any book in here they turn into a catalyst of ink writing the name. writing the name. writing the name i am in love with museums

“Did the artist feel hurt when having to remember again and again those who were taken?” and “where did the artist go after opening their soul for strangers?” and “Is inspiration something that happens with or against the body?” And who gets to name it art? do i?

This Is Art! I yelled and no one was there to listen.