Culver Center Visit #1, December 29th, 2010

Culver Creative Piece #1

Prose Poem

A gem in the desert like the university a hidden stone of value tumbled amongst the academic rocks.  Turn right not left at the train station.

Rain.

A boy with an umbrella who knows how to cross these streets.  Looks up and his eyes make the signals change to the walking man.  And suddenly a New York memory: the Romanov townhouse – a tiny mansion sandwiched in the streets of the past.  They loved California — my grandparents, the dispossessed aristocrats.

Are you who you say you are asks someone.  Yes.  Perhaps.  The money, the public, and most importantly the people. What is the plan?  Looking out, always looking out.  Art is.

Many rooms all empty.  Something?  Something. No. The emptiness suits. The silence is golden.  The fruits of your labor fruitful. Or not.  Nothing wasted.  All architecture salvageable at least in memory.

One flicks the switches so the art can turn on; the other mans the loading dock.   Waits for more art to pour in.

So let it pour.

Let it.

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