The Hole // Mike Corrao


From the plaster, an evocation summons every droplet of water. THE RISING HUM. Telephone wires looping around your neck. We are connecting two points in space.

cinematic bodies

thru the gap

scenes of microlithic corrosion

Modern architecture makes me nervous (Johannes Goransson)

There is an overgrowth of inorganic materials spreading through the building. Either guided by the annihilatory ambitions of the landlord, or some unknown malevolence. Gray sludge uproots the wallpaper, eating away at every solid structure. The tiles are beginning to sag, smoke is seeping into the hallways, the ground is opening up.

open wide o earth

i want to see what’s inside

We have found that buildings with running water beneath their foundations tend to have a higher degree of activity (Steve Gonzales).

i don’t want to go outside

can you feel it?

i’m in your walls

I seem to have lost a certain kind of communicating, which is done without images, confined to language. There is something lost in translation. How to write this? (Daniela Cascella). I feel that I am slowly, or maybe more rapidly now, losing an ability to speak.

down of course

everything’s always wet

concrete to conk creet

beton brut

become physically involved

I want to give back to the earth. Open wide. Inspire a leak in the ceiling that traces a line from one point to another. I want it to form a mouth in the floor that swallows the carpet. Line my throat with teeth or cilia. The more digits to latch with.

The building will weep through your eyes. It will sing the same songs that you’ve heard playing through the halls. An echo that carries from the stairs to every floor. Reflecting from one flat surface to another. I will make them love you.

My mattress will swallow the pool the rain lets into my home. Every object has its purpose.

…and that hierarchy (Le Corbusier).

Language gets in the way again. I cannot tell you how I’m feeling.

an umbrella improvises the floor

I want to be swallowed by the building. Submerged in the opening well and sealed in place, until I am underneath the surface. Covertly interior. I do not want to be seen or felt. It is easier to desire concealment.

ratted out

i will wear a beautiful dress to the finale

something that resembles a shallow well or damp nightgown


Mike Corrao is the author of numerous works including Gut Text (11:11 Press), Rituals Performed in the Absence of Ganymede (11:11 Press), Under Reef (Onomatopee), and Smut-Maker (Inside the Castle). 

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