Some sculptures are better understood as poems. In Consecutive: Linear, Passenger, his solo exhibition at South Suburban College in South Holland, IL, on limited view this fall, Javier Jasso writes a walk-through book of them. He does this by refashioning found two-by-fours into a large two-wheeled cart; plastering a stack of shipping boxes with layers of cement; housing a white bone inside a metal heating grille; stacking burnt and crumbling bricks in a corner; tying a pale plaster arm atop a makeshift crutch. Words appear, too: lettered huge in clay and hung on the wall, typed small in ink on white paper. The overall effect is a ghostly one, of things and spirits trapped in between now and then, here and there, drained of blood but not memories or desires, awaiting further tinkering and purpose at the hands of someone who sees them not just for what they were but more importantly for what they might become.