Marc Breslin            Work   |   Prose   |   Video   |   Sound

what i saw were four white paws
and i could feel the earth

a single gunshot 

before the sun came up
did not wake me

where do seagulls go to die

the only difference between outer space and inner space is chemical

the further in, the deeper, the higher

the tighter.
the floating and rising
the up up and away.
the casual glance.
the studied response.
the tailor-made.
the defined.
the light, the whip,
the seepage. 
the decay.
the difficult.
the forced.
the repetition.
the end.
the restarting.
the down down and come back.
the friend.
the iron.
the waiting, the not knowing.
the shape.
the numbers.
the going, the coming,
the going.
the coming.
the no room.
the jerk.
the train, the dress,
the taste.
the oh no no.
the run.

The other day I learned that it takes longer to get your car window replaced than it does to die and be buried.

A large fire starts with a small spark

Les perspectives sont sombres.

Desperate pensées se transforment en actions désespérées. Il y aura plus d'atrocités; d'autres tragédies et ce ne seront pas les accidents. En l'absence de signes d'espoir et pas d'argent, les gens vont prendre les choses en mains propres. Un grand feu commence avec une petite étincelle. Rodney King ont essayé de guérir les choses après les flics le battre et le lendemain des émeutes de Los Angeles. Ne pouvons-nous simplement le long? Il aurait dû être un chirurgien. Jenny dit-il juste, quelqu'un veut faire un trou en vous et vous faire foutre à travers elle, mon pote. Rodney, nous avons tous ne peuvent pas s'entendre, mon pote. Cette idée de «s'entendre» - cette idée d'être des potes -il s'agit d'un principe qui n'a aucun fondement. Ceux qui luttent pour la paix et un terrain de jeu égal n'avons pas d'exemple historique qui permet de construire sur. C'est un rêve. Les rêves les plus puissants se termine brusquement et seules les pièces de vagues, le cas échéant, on se souvientLes comploteurs et magouilleurs avec auto-pilotés par les besoins égoïstes réussir. Les menteurs d'avance en raison de la simple fait que leur main reste bien caché. Ce type fait bien parce que leurs motivations sont au singulier. Le «Je» «Moi» «Mon» du monde ne sont pas pris avec le «Nous» et essayer de s'entendre. Ils sont les trous de coupe et la putain, mon pote. Peut-être le plus simple fait est que personne n'a demandé à naître comme personne n'a demandé à être abandonnée. Une fois allumé, la question est, comment allez-vous procéder?

At Night Only

What do we do in the daytime –
when the rest are inside doing inside jobs.
What kind of work do you do.
What kind of work is that you are doing.
And what’s your shoe size.
How many times does it need to be multiplied
until it is realized.
My father told me multiply it by 3
and that’s about how long it will take
until it is realized. He told me I can count on that.
I’ve learned that’s true
and he told me the true.
Don’t tell me. Tell me.
I was sick of not knowing
knowing pretending.
But enough of that.
I can count backwards from 10
and when I get to zero
nothing will have happened.
Except about nine things.
And that’s enough for me.
Its all somewhat pointy.
Not sharp exactly, just pointy.
Like the tip of a finger or the finger itself.
There were dreams of doing it
and doing it and doing it.
The dreams.
They started up again and this was a finale.
Or a crescendo. 
I learned that by holding control
you can fix everything.
After getting a bit of knowledge
the image became larger and full of the blur.
this marked a time of advantage.
When the majority were off in the sun warm doing sunny things,
I remained in the daytime doing work meant to be done, at night only.
The orange bright fluorescent
that suggested the proper time of day
was left by itself
and in there I realized that this
–  at night only –
was right and proper.

Back door deals and things
stuffed in the closet
had no weight
or bearing
or significance
or meaning
or sway
on what work had to be done.
The work I had to do.
Because I can. 

They feel bigger than that.
Or the size suggested doesn’t feel like the size worn.
My god it’s all starting again.
That shit show backwards feeling
back of the guts come up
and hit the shiny silver again.
That thing in the back that never goes away
and the old nag rearing his ugly size again.
Oh my god its all starting again.
Because I can that’s why.
You know this.
but it felt like it was chopped up
or lopped off right at the top
so that it was opened like a can.
And don’t do that thing
with the was in front of the ed
because that’s not right nor proper.
You can that’s why because its all starting again.
The dreams.
They came back again and suggested
that the crescendo control
would not be ceasing any time soon
so that it was more like the beginning
than the end.
The good news in this
was that it because there was
a beginning
there had to have been an end.
The planning and scheming
and taking time to practice.
The practice.
Its just practice.
Ahhh practice.
What a leisure.
Taking the time to practice.
I’m just practicing.
Running around in dog circles.
Licking my chops, practicing.
I saw someone wearing the leather ones
with that old string.
Heat increases and the movement swirls around the circle.
One more time.
Take me to the future please.
Pretty please. Ok.
That is not happening so in the meantime –
more practice. 
Yeah yeah yeah.
Dribbling around town in the daytime
looking at the orange going at night only –
feeling utterly ridiculous and out of any element.
Happening to be in line and thinking, I’m in line.
How ridiculous.
The baby standing on his feet
with his mouth in a shape that only young children can make.
The malleable soft tender will go raw.
I saw the leather again.
Rearing back up and down again.
The old soft decay happening right in front my eyes.
Repeating it again.
at night only.
That was the old soft spot going dry and terribly hard.
Acting more than seeing.
Believing and saying to myself, you’re in line old man!
Catch up!
Wanting to save her and now at the end of the leather string
hoping for plane crashes.
Hoping for that one last plane crash
on the east coast from the bottom to somewhere near the top.
A fiery end that’s how it went – something like that.
Hoping that. No I mustn’t.
that’s a bit too much even for me the old man said.
His soft O going hard again and returning to the tender.
What a joke.
Standing in line and thinking of what it is to be in line.
Hymning a hymn and thinking they just changed the entire score.
How bizarre to just change it like that
and think that it will still be the same.
How could it ever be the same?
Especially when its daytime outside
and I’m inside thinking
of the orange fluorescent that spells out
at night only. 

Winter Housefly 

In-doors, in the dead of winter
You find yourself approaching death,
And you are considered lucky.
Fellow comrades stuck in window-panes
Legs up, on their backs,
Forecast your fate.
Bobbing, drunk on time,
You can't stop hitting the wall.
A sweaty windowpane
From a long shower
Gives you a chance to drink.
Another day
to live.
Another day
To rub your hands together.
I find you in a spot of sun
And thinking you're a gonner
Brush you away.
Startled, you buzz away.
Save your energy!

It is warmer today and
You just may have

enough enough enough

enough enough enough - the stop forward action motion moving always rewinding to get more. trying to save. for what. i don’t know. the desire to collect. the need to produce. farming my production. potato famine. boots was established on may 11, 1983 (in the year of our lord, amen). enough. i was thinking about trying on a new pair and how i would put them on - how i would wear them. when i did buy them i looked at them for hours. i fell asleep looking at boots. she just called and invited me to italy for a week. just relax. you can swim and think about your show. enough. and i think i’ll go to the top of the mountain today and get high. eat. enough. there was a goddamn war going on. there were goddamn wars going on. he was spending her time thinking about black boxes and how to fill them. i wanted to black-white-wash all those fucking linens and put tape on them. tape it out and black it out. enough. where’d all the fucking money go? i was sick of knowing not know- ing pretending. that poor fucking guy shot himself in the head. on his boat. i’m going on a boat. north. it’s better north. to go north is better. (who gives a shit) but i do - she whispered. that’s enough! (like a bad mother scolding her knowing not knowing pretending boy)

my back aches 

“my back aches” she cried, cleaning the dishes. The words echoed throughout their small flat, off of the stainless steel of the sink that was covered in stains, off of the tile of the kitchen counter and bouncing off walls eventually to her husband’s ears. It was like an after-dinner mint, “what’s that hun?” was his response, still savoring the mint in his ears. She used to trim and clean his ears for him. He was already horizontal on his wife’s father’s couch, reading the nytimes book review from weeks ago – he kept these pages in a stack that began resembling something of a sculpture in the corner of their living room. “my back aches” she said again. He kept reading, still tasting the mint but not its ingredients. He was reading about a book that just came out about Lincoln. How many damn books about Lincoln could there be? He was reading but not really. Reading the words was just a background for his thoughts. How much time do I spend lying on my back? I am like a whore or a running back. My life on my back. My whore-life on my fucking back. Frustrated with Lincoln and himself, he watched his wife. He scanned her hair – it was salt and pepper. He wouldn’t have married her if she had bad hair and he wondered if this made him an ass. Her ass. When he was young, he cared about a woman’s body, naturally, and her eyes, of course, her mouth…but if she had bad hair he couldn’t look. It couldn’t look fried, or like it took too much effort. Like a new-born horse, her hair was maintained but wild, glimmering only in moments and so soft. Her neck strained as she washed the bowls and for some reason this made him ache. What did she just say? Why don’t I ever do the dishes. He watched tackled on the couch. Life-whore. Soft back. Supple back. Soft neck. The tendons in her neck popped out and he saw her veins, pushing old blood around her old body. He wondered what her blood smelled like.

The water in the sink was hot and bubbling with suds. Her father instructed her that you have to wash dishes with hot suddy water. There were 2 large dishes and 2 small ones, saucers, that held 2 bowls. They had soup and lamb for dinner. The soup was LENTIL CRÈME and the lamb was lamb. They shared a bottle of prosecco and ate listening to joni mitchel’s BLUE album. It was on repeat and “my old man” was playing for the second time. Forks, knives and spoons were singing in the sink with joni. Rising and falling with her. Falling with her. Preparing the meal took her 2 hours. Eating the meal took 15 minutes. She wondered if it was worth it. Pieces of lamb in the forks. Cleaning the round surface of the spoons. It was all round. It was convex and concave. Her stomach. She thought of her stomach. My belly is convex – and now, concave. I am fat. When I was younger…better not to think like that. “my old man” finished and “little green” started playing. Her thoughts turned from how her body had turned into something like an old lady’s, my mother’s, to her youngest son. Why haven’t you called me? Are you sick?

The Philadelphia phillies were playing the florida marlins and the phills were down 5-2. minutes ago they were up 2-0. that’s how it always went. His mother loved baseball, loved the phillies (hated the phillies). She told him that they were going to put her in the grave. She was in the grave. The television was on mute so joni’s voice could fill the flat. Neither of them were watching the game and both were oblivious to the illness that killed his mother.

Fucking piece of shit asshole. You just blew another fucking game. He killed his beer and went outside for a smoke. This hoosier fucking town. These loud mothercunts. That guy was right. Fat people talk loud to make it seem like they have personality, like they have. Keep trying to hide that fat shit. Two hours outside of Philadelphia, adam found himself incredibly drunk smoking reds outside of a bar called the third base (last stop before home). 6 fucking 2! 6 FUCKING 2! Starter house. Easy foundation. 2 story modular house. Pay it off in fifteen years. Sell it to someone else. This shit is so slow. Everybody is scared right now. I’m alright. God, 6 fucking 2. dad must be pissed, too. Tainted love was playing on the jukebox back in the bar and adam ordered a shot of jameson and a bud heavy. How the fuck did they blow it? 2-0 in the eighth and shit the fucking bed. Nana, that old batty bird, she knew it. Probably laughing her ass off at me right now. Up in hell. Down in heaven. Right in the middle of the earth. I gotta calm the fuck down. He took his shot and looked around. A big girl was looking at him. He stared at her. What the fuck are you looking at, he thought. The old vets at the bar knew better. They kept their eyes forward and barely talked. He was posted up with them but had never gone to war, had no reason not to talk. He looked forward and saw bottles of booze, most half empty, and it made him happy. These guys got it good. They don’t get pissed at the phills anymore. No wife at home to bitch at them for getting too drunk. All of their nightmares played out in the jungles of Vietnam. They don’t get hot anymore. Fucking ice-cold. Perspective. R&R in Hong-Kong fucking 15 whores, shooting blanks after a couple hours but still feeling it. Damn. Still feeling it. Cold beer, hot pants, whiskey, motherfucker! I’m drunk. He went outside to smoke. Two of the vets were outside smoking. 85 million now. What do you know about that? Come away with 40%. About 35 million. Yeah, that’ll do. I’d be dead in two fuckin months. Spend it all on Poon-TANG. They laughed, thinking back to their R&R. 

Still feeling it.


Я до сих пор не знаю, как чувствовать себя. Вы поймали меня удивило. каждый, в основном, смотрел вниз. вниз головой. это произошло несколько раз, и я побывал в нескольких местах. Я был гостем. три раза, я был. а может и больше. это действительно плохо. но это происходило и происходит. только для того времени. на некоторое время, он был настолько ярким снаружи. так это имело смысл, чтобы выжить. по-настоящему очистить его и сделать его правильным. Чистота. D и я очищены и сделал это очень красиво. Результат был черный тележек. Удачи вам в этом один. Толстяк был там и так было М, и ее сына в Калифорнии. ванны. подобрать материал на пути. Я украл кресло с лестницы. Мне нужно это плохо. его нормально. он был похоронен в белом. c’est Tres Bien. она взяла меня в музей, и мы говорили по-французски, мы были практикующими. Она показала мне русской истории в самом красивом языке. и мы перешли мосты в Санкт-Петербурге. ее муж был большой адвоката в городе. Мы ходили и были телохранителями впереди и позади нас. мы были в музыкальном магазине с нашими телохранителями. просто говорю о классической музыке. ходит, как чувствовал, что ложно удобно. как я был уязвим. Мне нужно больше телохранителей. по ее мнению высоким. Затем ванны. 6 руками одновременно. Турецкий. ведро льда. Россию.

Evasive Maneuvers 

it’s a game of evasive maneuvers................. 
it costs $1.99. 
otherwise, it is free.

1968, was that it?
 or was it FR8543.

 1891 - that is for sure.

No, it was B5PI4V.
 That is more like it.
 And the isles and ladders that came with it.

 And ladders (for SB)

So the cylinder and the three kinds, or types

And the three adventures

You were like a child
 with a dove

For sure.

A Space

Enter a space and it begins.....projected on the far wall are these words:

It begins, our exercise on and how we relate to it.
 You are standing straight up. Strong back. Act tall.
 Now lie down on your back.

Projected on the ceiling are these words:

Now you’re standing up and reading correctly.
 For the first time.
 Isn’t that easy?
 Act tall.
Feel the soles of your feet on the ground.
 You are standing straight up.
 Now bring your knees half way to your chest.
 You are kneeling.

The Jerkoff Room

Before anything else happens, cats are released into the space and allowed to mark ‘their space.’ After this, working with either existing pipes or making new ones (that may or may not be functional), a soundtrack is made of pipes hissing and releasing steam. Beds that are shaped like tears or sperm are then installed. They are made to only fit one person but two can fit uncomfortably, legs hanging off. Directly above these beds are single light bulbs hanging from long strings so that when lying down on the beds a person can hit them and make them move (the spacing of the lights is such that at any light’s full swing it will almost hit the closest light at full swing, but will not). These are the only light sources in the space and because of their low height, they tempt the person on the bed to strike them, which they are allowed to. Finally, casts of my arm are installed at different points of the jerkoff movement - some are lower and some higher, depending on the stroke. These casts line the perimeter of the space and are installed on simple white rectangular stands. The final cast is bronze - the money shot. The number of casts (as well as beds, lights, cats, and pipes) will depend on the size of the room. Lavender is then sprinkled in the space to offset the cats. When the installation is complete, and the lights are activated by the visitors, the room will then animate itself. Swinging light bulbs will throw shadows of the casts on the walls and the room will actually start jerking off - an occasional piece of light hitting the bronze cast.


I hide when ________________________________________.
 People who ____________________ make me sick.
 ________________ people disgust me.
 When I __________________ I get restless.
Listening to ___________________ is tiring.
 I remember dreaming about _________________________________.
 I have always wanted to __________________________________.
 When I think of ____________________ I get angry.
 I disappoint myself when I ____________________________. __________________________________ is my fondest childhood memory.
 My worst fear is __________________________________.
Keep this close and write in pencil.........