Labour of Tongues

I do
nothing I need
no one
I loose my keys

they were on the door 
outisde

Labour of Tongues is a document of poetry that records, but saves nothing. It asks, how to stay with pain?
This archive is build out of two channels, two voices running parallel to one another. In one an elder speaks, in the other a knot of generational fabulation.
Here, the poem and flesh serve as ushers for pain. Through imitation and declaration this archive becomes a container for disorganised storytelling, disorder, grief, translation, the loss of language, and affection.

Edition of 100.