https://caspercollege.cvlcollections.org/files/original/5d71d1fec3548cd695f6c6a6a9185184.pdf e2a77df2241d590edffa32aff8951ec5 PDF Text Text JRn Empty Space af ETIestky Dust Weston Chorak If ever there was a great hypocrite of all the Earth, it was me. I always told you not to procrastinate, and it took me three days after the funeral to actually pack up your things. I slept on Monday, My Tuesday was spent awake in the insterstice of exhaustion and melancholic stupor, and Wednesday was mostly answering calls and emails. I got myself up early on Thursday morning to get it over with. I must have stood in the doorway to your apartment for a long time. Two of your neighbors had walked past me to go to work and they spent the whole time staring. The second at least gave me a nod. Some sort of pity. The first had only watched with blank eyes void of concern and covered in a thin film of annoyance. Even in those few days, the air had filled with dust and cobweb, but the heavy chill echoed over flashes of red and blue that still seemed to pour in through the window. I brought the flat boxes from my car and I unfolded them and stacked them in a pile off to the side. I started to organize the clutter. No matter how many times I said it, I don’t think you ever learned to keep your piles in order. At a certain point, you were out of my house, so it didn't hurt me for you to leave your things scattered everywhere, and I stopped mentioning it. I couldn’t step in any direction without having to watch for plates, or stacks of papers, or old books of poetry. Sometimes, I would just stand there and look at them as they lay sprawled on the carpet. The funeral was busy. There must have been a few hundred people who came by. They didn’t really talk to me, so they just stood there and I stood there and we listened to the quiet music. I even saw a few of your old classmates from high school that said they hadn't talked to you in years, but they still showed up, and 1 thanked them, I know you didn’t like crowds, but I think you would be happy to hear that people were there. I left after everyone was gone and I threw my handful of dirt and watched my child's casket go 162 Expression Magazine �An Empty Space of Mostly Dust down, I taped up the boxes that were full. It was midday by then, and my mind posed, for the first time this week, the question of food. I went out and locked the apartment. I was going to get lunch at a sandwich shop downtown, but halfway there I decided I wasn’t hungry. Before I went back, I spent my afternoon in the art gallery. Warm heat hung in the air and the paintings dripped from walls painted in an Oxford tan. I cupped my hands to catch and drink from each canvas while 1 sat on the benches. There weren’t enough works on display, I thought. The rooms stretched tall and each canvas was wilting, contained within a space of mostly dust and faded classical music ringing hollow through speakers behind the walls as rain pushed on the windows, I don't think 1 saw a single other person the entire time. I know you liked the gallery, but 1 could never find it in me to care for some old statues and portraits. They seemed so still to me. Empty and vacuous. They were the dead fruits of dead men, and if I reached out 1 thought they would crumble before I could even touch them. But 1 sat there a while and 1 watched them move. I heard you in the brushstrokes. I watched you walk in the grasses of the Netherlands and I sat with you and contemplated the nature of the stars above Athens, Birds sang overhead and perched in canopy ceilings while deer grazed the cold tile. We watched as apples on a table grew ripe and then fell to rot. The city was rotting too. Exhaust consumed petrichor and all silence died in the flow of people between their daily places, I walked back to the complex through swamps of wet concrete and grime, through alleys of smoke and low fog. I wasn’t used to your key, and 1 fumbled for a minute unlocking the door. It stuck twice before opening. The evening cast a dull blue glow through the blinds. I didn’t bother with the lights or with locking the door after I closed it. 65th Edition 163 �An Empty Space of Mostly Dust I had been efficient in the morning. Almost everything from the center room and kitchen was boxed already, the walls bare and unfurnished. I'd even started on the bedroom before I left. I spent the evening packing the remainder of the things away, it was mostly the clothes and shoes from your closet To be honest. I don't know what I'll do with them. It wouldn’t feel right to sell them or give them away, but I don't have anywhere to keep them. I'll at least find a place for the pictures. I’ll keep your books as well. I don't know why you loved the poems so much, but I know you did, so I'll do my best to take care of the lot. It felt odd to be in your room. It was a box, the short ceiling leaning into an empty space of mostly dust and air hissing behind the walls as saltwater leaked through the corners. It was a place I had imagined countless times this week. I was myself, answering my phone. I was an officer, making the call and noting the time on my watch. Sometimes, I was you, and I sat with my back against the door and I wore your mask and held the valves and I breathed in nitrogen, I felt my skin go cold, and my vision grew dark as I saw the blue in your face. I spent most of today at the gallery. I sat and drank from each dripping canvas. I watched the sun set over the Mediterranean and felt the winds of the Alps. I sat at the tables of kings and looked through the windows of seaside diners. I watched my child walk away on a windswept forest trail under the falling boughs of yellow leaves. I watched you fade into the distance. I waited as long as 1 could. I'll be driving home tonight. I just wanted to say some things to you before I left. I think this is a very nice spot, and it's right next to your mother, so I hope you don't mind it. I think she would want her child to be with her. I think it would be nice to sleep under the oaks, and they cast a nice shade over you in the mornings. I think I'll be buried here someday too. I won't ask why you did this. Even if you could answer, I don't think I would ever understand, I could read a thousand books of poetry and stare at a thousand old portraits and it wouldn’t change a 164 Expression Magazine �/In Empty Space of Mostly Dust thing. It doesn't even matter at this point does it? This is not a poem. The meaning of the words won’t scrape the ink from the page. I just have to know you’re at peace. The painted sky drips down as all the yellow turns to red and brown and fails away before me, and I wish I could just sit here under these withering trees with you a while longer. 65th Edition 165 � Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Print Magazine Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource An Empty Space of Mostly Dust Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <div class="element-text five columns omega"> <p><a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a></p> </div> <div id="dublin-core-rights" class="element"> <div class="element-text five columns offset-by-two"> <div id="dublin-core-rights" class="element"> <div class="element-text five columns offset-by-two"> <p><em>Expression</em><span>&nbsp;</span>claims first North American rights to submissions selected for publication. All rights revert back to the author/artist after publication.</p> </div> </div> <div id="dublin-core-date-created" class="element"> <div class="field two columns alpha"></div> </div> <p></p> </div> </div> <div id="dublin-core-date-created" class="element"> <div class="field two columns alpha"></div> </div> Date Created Date of creation of the resource. 2025 Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Weston Chorak Language A language of the resource ENG Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Expression Literary and Arts Magazine, CCA 04.ii.c.2022.01 WyCaC US. Casper College Archives and Special Collections. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CCA_04.ii.c.2022.01_Exp_2025_Prose_02 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Searchable PDF Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Casper College