Kurt Apil
Professor
Relentless
He looks for the signs, the space, the way
that things will emerge, will form
Be moved
Out from intention, spiralling from a centre
A core
The shape that things will take
To come forth in
So that he, a pathwork of black and white
Touched black in his heart
His inner
Touched white in his appearance
His Outer
Will stand out
Totally his apparent self
Initially looking for the shape
But later
Being available to any shape that may be summoning itself
Through him
From the self, fashioned in the struggle
Not mine, but ours
He remains a machine
He looks for the forms, the images, the impressions
Things want to come as, others want to show up as
What wells of possibility are they presenting
How will they unfold
Who are they, what are they
Not through planning
Not the shape on paper
But the means
Not so much looking for the shape
Not so much any shape
But the shape, the necessary shape
His
To remain a machine