the unemployed angel speaks

Yesterday's lecture by Giorgio Agamben at CSDS can only be described as delicious.
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Since I haven't been writing much, here's something I drew/designed a few days back:
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Update (18-01-2007): David has written a rather lovely poem about the little birdie in my drawing. Here it is:

Green fire

Escaped - the bird
flew from her,
drawing green flames
behind, growing the tree
branches and leaves
from her mouth,
green fire as gift
of pleading arms,
the unheld hands.

The bird chose not
to land on the trees
chose flight over
rest, chose air
over seas and forests,
over the contents
of a stomach
once world encircled
in itself.

To what end? Where
to fly and take
a winged memory
of life within a body?
Where to rest
when stolen in yourself?
Memories of trees,
green flame. Fly,
remembering yourself.

I am flown from the tree
left to fly handless,
empty of what I desire.
Take my wings, hands, beak
and mouth of feathered hair
and burn with the fire.
Each wing flies,
and lost hand searches

for reasons to burn itself.

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And, finally, a silly thing (won't call it a poem) inspired by yesterday's talk:

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the unemployed angel speaks

all this singing
tries me at times
and whoever designed
this white dress deserves
to be hanged
it doesn’t fit and the holes
through which my wings need to go
you know
like just so
are so bloody tight

what crimes dear Lord
what crimes
got me here

all I do is listen to sweet chimes
and sing hymns and trip around
in my silly frock
and my harp’s
missing you know and the dim tailor
doesn’t know anything about zippers (and yes
I’m sure the
ahem
people down there mock at us)

and my halo has lost its glow
I need a new conditioner you know.
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PS: Please go here.
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