AUTO DEATH CULT

AUTO The engines named of old autos, “the self”— transcend their mortal shape. The sheen, the selfsame gleam of Karma chameleons. Mirror cabinets of daily life, where car bodily boundaries dissolve, reflecting all around them upon their planes. The image-saturated Perpetuum individuum— endlessly expressive—parked in its slot. DEATH I recall the myth of the human Actaeon, who saw too much of what he should not have. (a naked goddess) Punished for his hubris, he is transformed into a deer and dies. Likewise, the carriages are turned into images— covered in car body paint, the subject is made one. Myth and macchina conflate, yielding contemporary visions of phantasmagoria: Watery, rippled, leviathan— losing hold upon the moisten’d earth; the ground betrayeth. Hunted hollow chassis, garish torsos— limbs of Lofty Maximus ensnared in the 3D-web, gaffer-taped contraptions. Prolifer’th wheels, bursting aloft in seed-like bloom, the amber’d painted cordon of the thoroughfare, the road’s guiding vein. Deer in the headlights, beholden to the car-eyes of another realm— ancient creature and modern spectacle collide: swirling souls, butterflies of the psyche. CULT The engines named of old autos, “the self.”