Poetry

from Corsica Inside the Daughterhouse

by Paige Taggart on December 28, 2012

Our poetry editor, Joe Pan, has selected a poem by Paige Taggart for his third in a monthly series that brings original poetry to the screens of Hyperallergic readers.

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A detail of artist Alois Kronschlaeger's installation at the Media Lab pavilion at Art Prize 2012 in Grand Rapids, Michigan. (photo by Hrag Vartanian for Hyperallergic)

A detail of artist Alois Kronschlaeger’s installation at the Media Lab pavilion at Art Prize 2012 in Grand Rapids, Michigan. (photo by Hrag Vartanian for Hyperallergic)

We want space to behave in a way that is much easier to observe.

It’s cribbage we’re playing. 
I’m planning an attack on the illness of love.


Nothing is a stranger coming near.

Dopamine wards off intruders; into your heart a science grows cold.

When a box is coated in duck-tape, it locks in the light.

If it leaks out,

history goes, an image is lost.

There is nothing in the eye-of-the-beholder.


I am running with a baby in my arms, towards a memory.

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