CORRINE YONCE STUDIOS
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    • Video Collage Poems
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    • notebooks
    • archive >
      • What They Didn't Notice (Install)
      • Female Familial, 2019
      • drawings
      • life studies 2015-18
      • Selfies, 2014
      • Hive Mind, 2013
  • PUBLIC
    • Longing is Just Our Word for Knowing
    • King Street Laundry
    • BTV Bike Path Mosaic
    • For All My Emilys
    • Old North End Community Center Mural
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    • Public Projects Overview
    • The Holding Space Radio
  • Bio
    • On Housing & Community
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Education

Gooey brown stuff, shoved between the wooden planks of the antique table. Wide planks spread
apart like the legs of a tall lady, the space between filled with compact dirt and dinner crumbs,
decomposing into a regular film of detritus, splintering wood always caught old steak bits, the soft
timber begging for meat. That was when I learned, me, nine and half years old and prying that crap
out with a bent butter knife, that everything in life multiplies or dies.

Academic Experience:

Matured, from table-pickings to fly-killing. Early spring and flies are already multiplying faster than
the mold eating away at the bread loaf on the top pantry shelf. Seems my arms could tire, my fingers
could bruise, and the flies would keep coming. Killed flies until the night swallowed their black
specks that plagued the old wooden table, the tile around the sink, and the counter top island that
obstructed the middle of the kitchen.

                I woke up to my cold feet,

Work Experience:

            • Feeding the rabbits,
            sprinkling the brown chalky cylinders through the metal bars of the rabbit cage.
            one of those step-by-step processes, one of those methods.

            • Feeding the dog was easy, 
            his little pork-flavored cubs out all day,

            • the cat practically fed himself,
            just came back during the days to mooch our warm sun-lit couch, mooch the dog’s food.

Volunteer Experience


Rabbits, helpless, hopeless, the two trapped by the silver cube wire, locked in their own soiled
shavings and mooshed round poos, pinky-nail-sized noses sucking air at a thousand breaths per
minute. Us, staring at their genitals as if we can make anything out from between chunks of fur.
Cream shavings were stained yellow, condensed into fat chunks sandwiching their turds.

Relevant skills

Aggressive rabbits, fighting rabbits, screeching, squeaky-door sound from gaped teeth.
Darling, they were just playin’.

Waking up to cold feet, rabbits pulling fur,
bloated bunny lying on its side,

Background Verification


            Yes- I crossed the green floor, painted in a dull sage paint,

            No- interrupted, before I reach the cage.

            Yes- A brown lump, wriggling weekly against the leadened green wood, eyes sealed shut,
            resembling a hairless field mouse.

            No-I dropped to my knees, poked the soft skin, weak bones resisting like leaf stems against
            my fingertips.

            I stand, looking across the floor, littered in brown lumps, flattened, dried or half-alive,

References:

Twelve baby bunnies, dead on the living room floor.
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  • HOME
  • BODIES OF WORK
    • Never Good at Pretty (install)
    • Selected Works
    • ESTATE SALE
    • HOME IN WHAT REMAINS
    • Video Collage Poems
    • digital-journal
    • notebooks
    • archive >
      • What They Didn't Notice (Install)
      • Female Familial, 2019
      • drawings
      • life studies 2015-18
      • Selfies, 2014
      • Hive Mind, 2013
  • PUBLIC
    • Longing is Just Our Word for Knowing
    • King Street Laundry
    • BTV Bike Path Mosaic
    • For All My Emilys
    • Old North End Community Center Mural
    • Voices of Cambrian Rise
    • Voices of Home
    • Public Projects Overview
    • The Holding Space Radio
  • Bio
    • On Housing & Community
  • SHOP