(no subject)
A New York City artist,
so stirred by his grief
in the wake of the tumble of
the World Trade Center,
felt the necessity to document
his own dive from the heights
of a skyscraper in a series
of photographs.
(he insisted we fall constantly-
as we lift each foot, let it drop,
catch ourselves with each pounding
fossilization of our presence into earth)
he plunged safely, and while the
harnesses will be digitally erased,
massaging out the dictates of caution,
he says it is the same
to place the motion in the picture
to place the feeling in an instant
to place the grief in a gallery
to calcify the moment and
abandon the foolish hope
that comes with standing upright.
The protesters: unwilling to cascade down
from their little ceilings, to peer inside
the unruly heart.
To be caught in the motion,
to be paralyzed by film. Arms
in a winded backstroke, face
contorted with velocity. The
spectators with feet calmly
grounded as they wait to
appreciate the art of descent.
so stirred by his grief
in the wake of the tumble of
the World Trade Center,
felt the necessity to document
his own dive from the heights
of a skyscraper in a series
of photographs.
(he insisted we fall constantly-
as we lift each foot, let it drop,
catch ourselves with each pounding
fossilization of our presence into earth)
he plunged safely, and while the
harnesses will be digitally erased,
massaging out the dictates of caution,
he says it is the same
to place the motion in the picture
to place the feeling in an instant
to place the grief in a gallery
to calcify the moment and
abandon the foolish hope
that comes with standing upright.
The protesters: unwilling to cascade down
from their little ceilings, to peer inside
the unruly heart.
To be caught in the motion,
to be paralyzed by film. Arms
in a winded backstroke, face
contorted with velocity. The
spectators with feet calmly
grounded as they wait to
appreciate the art of descent.