Ready? Okay!
The first thing to know is
Welcome and Thank You
and follow my presentation
of this and that.
I spread my chest
and assert with happiness
how grateful I am
to protect you.
Thank You for entrusting
us with your safety.
Prepare for security...
Prepare for lift-off
Prepare to forgetfulness.
Our skies are your futures.
If we never land there
can only be dancing
and movements in space, let
me, hit, this, mark...
As a flight attendant,
I could be a Barbie and
enjoy this simplicity when I wake
in the morning and put on this
crisp cap; well, good morning!
And, how are you today?
Busy, busy, busy...wait. Breathe.
Do, do, do, I respond to you. Stop,
no one is watching, now, I think,
if I preferred not to land,
flying would not feel like death.
June 7, 2011, "Body in Flight" Allora & Calzadilla.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2GVstesDrg&feature=player_embedded
Hi-Hi-Ho
When I use my body to signify
my pride I am its sheath
and it becomes my flag.
I hold myself against the pole
to barrel in wind
and try to suspend
these beliefs.
I balance my weight and restraint
to contain equal measures
of equally spaced pressures,
like atlas straining, or
lady justice, partitioning
lowly, bent over, my
shoulders spread and pour
down my arms because
I am a pinnacle.
I am a point thrown
out into space.
I am at mast, half-
full of death and try-
works, which means
this flag signifies a fiery grasp--
to call out and wave attachment
at loss, to call its name absence--
standing on paradox, half-
raised antonyms, barely
utterable synonyms, to express horses
carrying on around past a tree and freely
by the wayside presidential banner,
did the horses miss their feathers?
Will I ever forget to cease living,
so that ruptures will move me forward
on, over hills and dales, rolling along.
"Half Mast/Full Mast"
Running a War
I saw a man on a treadmill.
He moved the tracks around wheels (the kind
used in war are not the same; they are encased
by three, like a triangle to avoid death
rocks that tip heavy objects who didn't
make their way) and chugged
the upside-down tank; until,
like an earthworm, oil and a sense
of liberation removed itself from its trailing hose.
"Track and Field"
http://artlog.com/artworks/33312
