A participatory installation created and inspired by a poem that was written collaboratively with Knayte Lander in 2012. Video footage is below.

Funeral Lights

Thank you for coming to our funeral tonight

the stereo plays our signature song
while we search for that genius
who first felt
4
4
time

the parlor music in minor swells
rises like steam heat
til these beats fall from peaks
and drop so hard that the tender darlings dance

Chubby Checker in black says
"Let's Twist!" in the pyre
bull cats in leather jackets take their car keys out
drop 'em on the floor while the liturgy is sung
1961

lawless and immortal
they hit apples on the hearse
they hit cigarettes inside
tug the Reaper's coat tails
while the records spin all night

a chain of lights comes down
illuminating boot heels
to show us where we stand
you are humble in position
we are humble now in death
as above and sewn below

we push the clock hands back and forth
from past
to present
to future seams
the time we stitch is storybook
told from tales and captured here
the cloth will slip from grasping hands
become a welcome shroud

a moment passes
our loss is grieved

outside
long black cars with their rectangle flags
the waving party banners
orange crosses to the wind

they move away in the failing night
the traffic is thick and we ask you to stay

is there money in the jar?
is there wine still in the jugs?
one is emptied as 
the other is filled

through the sonic architecture
we feel the humming lips of bells

                                                        divided by nothing more than rain

1...

                                  we hear sirens in the distance

2...

                                  we hear the women in
high heels spilling

3...

                                  a vision through rain in 

                                  metered drops

                                  an amplified sense of

4...

                                  same

                                           place

                                  same 

                                            time

                                  redundancy

we lose the count
anticipate the ground as the light slips away
let us have this moment
we will lose what we covet

as light shifts we realize
the exit
is merely the entrance
divided by
direction
and time

we are stationed in the corners
dressed to serve the wounded
whisper their names in our ear

those you grieve and those
who slipped away
Lou (gone)
Kirby (gone)
Pete (gone)
Estelle (gone)
Danny (gone)
Lex (gone)

to honor their passing
we write those letters on the wall
make a mark to mention them
and light them in this place

the raindrops are wine spots now
on the walls of scattered glasses
the women in high heels
have forgotten first sips
and the vessels that brought them

the Reaper is a ticket taker
not collector
nor a thief
he is turning the gears while
our claws
dig the armchairs that we practice in as graves

you cannot stay in this Chapel of Mourning
please take the jackets and car keys
continue
we take to the Unknown

no postcards exchange

a banshee song reminds us that the passing
was the first deal
that we made
when we arrived

and each thought we gave
to our own etched names on marble
would slice through celebrations

and put our backs against the wall