Wednesday, November 3, 2010


I always eagerly search
the index of a new book
to find a name I cherish,
and then I go to the last
page on which that name
is mentioned to see what
memorable thing might
have happened at that
vanishing point.

A woman's body, cropped at the shins and seen in profile, leans to the left,
that is, forward. She may or may not be falling, and her slack face suggests
either sleepiness or the thrall of some sedative. A man stands right of her.
He is dressed in a tailored-looking suit. His arm is extended out toward the
woman, almost touching the small of her back, though if she is falling, it does
not seem likely that he will have any real chance of catching her. The woman
appears to be wearing the man's beige rain-coat. It is oddly draped, hiding
her body. The still-frame fades smoothly in and out, according to a precise,
automated sine-wave pulse: the image surfaces from the darkness, slides
across, on a temporal curve, an apex-point of brightness, and then immed-
iately becomes subject to a steady dousing. Correspondingly, the screen is
only caught in total blackness for an incalculable moment before the illumi-
nated forms emerge again. The moment fades in and out like that, for hours.

(In any event
if an object sees action
it under-
some portion of
said event.)

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