Morgan Ann Marshall


Some Projects —
2017-19 
  1. Posters.
  2. Counter Mag.
  3. Made to Dance in Burning Buildings.
  4. Close Encounters of the Academic Kind.
  5. Lost & Found Residency. 
  6. Some Parts Withheld- an Exhibition.

Some Writings —
2018-19
  1. I Draw Them Pink.
  2. My Heart on a Sunday.
  3. A Facade, Perhaps.
  4. All The Unknowns.
  5. Holy Mirror, Look at Yourself. 
  6. Moss is Growing in And On My Body.

Collaboration —
a working definition.
  1. The action of working with someone to produce or create something. Sometimes I ask the bus driver to fold my ticket in half. Together we made a folded bus pass. I asked the woman sitting next to me for an idea. She gave me three oranges that hald already been peeled. Bare and confused I felt bad for them. I ate two and half and offered her back the remains. She sucked the juices and left the remains of the remains on the seat. We produced and/or created something that day.




Mark
the gargoyles in the front yard have
tipped over and they now lie down flat
on their sides
moss is growing on their bellies
the sun hits them every day
they’re so small
not as small as i feel
but that’s another poem
i’ve yet to write
in your car you flick your cigarette
the ash comes back in the window
my starving stomach gargles not like the gargoyles their bellies are faced up and mine is turning inwards two deep inhales
only one exhale
where did you just go?
i went to the beach, that one day
you know which one i’m speaking of
we fucked
nobody knew
it was gay
(we’re so gay )
it was the type of cold that stings
not the same type as your bathtub,
and i should’ve realized what that meant
pretending it’s a sunny day when
we fell in love in the snow
Mo