The Illusion of Borders






“The Illusions of Borders:

the illusion that they are real,

and the grand illusion that they are not.”

                   – Stanley Cavell


What separates the past from the present?


Touch the switch –

the man flies back

onto the diving board,

the border of air and water,

where dry becomes wet,

weight becomes feather,

sharp becomes silk.


Off the trunk,overhead the shirt,

back, back through the door,

heels first.


In the camera,we are

lintbeams in the light,

halted at the screen,

flattened on celluloid,

seeping out around the edges of the power button,

in some dark projection room.


“Where is our territory?”

We climb to the top of the frame,

slip back to the bottom,

hearing the twin dim heartbeat

from far above.






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