Drag (Exit Strategies III)

Nummer drie in de duistere reeks videogedichten op basis van het chapbook 'Exit Strategies' van David Tomaloff.
Halfweg en we worden er niet vrolijker op.


{III} I dream in killer question marks because there is a war outside. I’ll stand in the rain

to burn myself clean because I blister in the sun. City brakes squeal from thin-wearing pads, and the cabs continue on, all rickety and mean. I’m holding hands with saints in orange corridors, built from dead husks of abandoned subway cars. Their names are alive in aged hues on the walls, and they are bleeding into the cracks that have begun to form in the parietes of my heart. I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’m sorry about the

anonymous picture postcards. I forget. I tore a note into my arm to remember. It healed, and I soon again forgot. The buildings are silver bullies in the daylight, hulking graveyards by night. Please send a flare, a map, or a compass. Send me a slingshot, or a prayer. I carry the old photographs, but what can be burned is sacrificed for heat when the giants falter to the dusk. The salt in the air is burning at our mouths. THE SEA IS RAVENOUS WITH REVENGE. There is a flood on the horizon tonight, and the guards have begun to desert their towers. THE WATER HAS REVEALED US IN WAYS WE COULD NEVER HAVE IMAGINED.

De donkere trip trekt zich traag op gang, kruipend door struikgewas lijkt het. Op zoek naar licht dat zich niet laat vangen, herinneringen (beelden van 'Entry (Exit strategies I)' schieten er doorheen) dringen zich op.

enfin, 't is klaar...

Drag (Exit Strategies III)



Woorden en stem: David Tomaloff
Concept, camera, montage en muziek: Swoon