#routinefables

[routinefables]

Weathered

The tide leaves lines on my face that sleep can no longer erase and I find mysterious bruises that mark me vivid brown-blue. Do I lash myself in dreams? Endless gloopy horror stories: loss, floods, bloody teeth, sex, phone dead, I’m dead, you’re dead, maskless heathens screaming in the grocery, pimples, rashes, hives. The worry I thought I sloughed survives, rushes through when light is dim, pushing through my paper skin.

[routinefables]

Sober

The tide rises. Waves overtake me as I fake meditation, trying to ride out desire. The first day Is a loud, grinding want. My joints need oiling, having forgotten how to be present. One part longs to be lost in a fog, but the other drags my depleted body to the light so I can grow again.

[routinefables]

Go as anxiety for Halloween

1. Open your eyes, all of them --  your ear-eyes, your tongue-eyes. They will watch for the worst.

2. Trust nothing, no one, no bridge, no man, no love, no car, no dog. Dogs leave you, too. Dogs leave you in bad shape.

3. Spin fast. Stop. Spin faster. Stop. Try to eat pasta. This is how you feel all the time now.

4. Paint your nails messy black, cuticles thick with tint, run them over your eyes and mouth, this is your makeup, this is your best face.

5. Collapse, pick yourself up, collapse, pick yourself up, collapse.

[routinefables]

Year forty

Coming back I pass myself. I squint and I can see her there, the lighter version, unaware. I know this is not the end but why do I feel I am ending? What is this line but a ghost story told over and over? Do not pass, there is no turning back. My body is still strong, can do more than it used to, because I have trained, I have broken its stubborn ways -- denied myself sugar, lifted myself for many reps over years, stretched so far for love that I pulled every muscle. Lesson learned.

But I am still not sure. Am I here? I am  of many minds today.

Previously: Year zero, Year ten, Year twenty, Year thirty

[routinefables]

Week 3: Inauguration

I watched the figures swear and march and wave, every moment waiting for something that I did not want to define: blood? bombs? knives? The country held its breath and I could feel it. My lungs compressed like vacuum bags of wool sweaters, there was no room for air, no point. Air would have been a dizzying release that I had not yet earned.

There was a woman being sworn in. My receptors dulled, it barely registered. But in a faint heartbeat, I was revived, I came a little bit back to life, and sent up, out, down a prayer to all womankind.

[routinefables]

Week 2: Inoculation

I offered my arm for the betterment of all. A vulnerable pioneer, for once, my fatness gained me entry to glorious priority. Now science races inside my sluggish skin, as it has done many times before, to find the puzzle piece that undoes fragility.

Though it barely changes this quieted life, and I long for the breath of strangers, of others, it is the start of a journey to light.

[routinefables]

Routine Fables 2021: Week 1

Insurrection

Rise up, my fiercest men, heed the call of your fathers beckoning you to live seditiously. You will be ushered in as kings to smear these stolen thrones with your thick colognes. Let the cameras roll, prove to me your loyalty, leave no marble face untouched, your fingerprints now mine, you must tear down these halls in my name. But, my brave patriots, please sign with your own.

[routinefables]

Hello, Texas Vignette Art Fair!

Hello to everyone who has seen us or will see us at the Texas Vignette Art Fair, which has its VIP opening tonight and will be open to the public April 10-14. 

More info about Routine Fables: 

Houstonians Elaine Bradford, sculptor, and Sara Cress, poet, set out to produce work on a weekly basis in 2017. Elaine created a sculpture and then Sara responded to the sculpture with a poem. The project was completed on December 31, 2017, when they tried (and failed) to set the final sculpture on fire.

All 52 pieces and poems were on display at Lawndale Art Center in Houston during the summer of 2018.

The entirety of the project hits on many topics that were particular to 2017: both artists turned 40, Sara’s home was flooded by Hurricane Harvey, Donald Trump took office, many men were accused of sexual assault and harassment, and the world just generally seemed to fall apart all over the place.

Routine Fables pieces are for sale!

The sculptures are for sale and there is an option to have the poem written in some form or on a wall. Email [email protected] for inquiries.

There is a book! 

If you would like to see the entire collection, there is a book of all 52 pieces and poems. It is $40 and you can purchase it here.

More work by the artists:

Sara Cress has another project called Breaking Poems, which you can follow on Facebook. 

Elaine Bradford can be found on Instagram at elainebradford_studio.