At last… I can see the strings… Attached…

I think I sprained my ankle jumping off the pedestal landed on the left foot on an angle not the right one Works of art shouldn’t talk back it’s all about the narrator subtextualizing the all-pervasive viewer’s subjective power the style A perfectionist gaze Is rarely turned inward dare not shine the torch on the projectionist’s face “I don’t make ‘em honey, I just show ‘em” “Make of them what you will” typecast Pinned butterfly to a screen broke free fluttering about in a blinding white whir of pin-spot celluloid brightness the audience saw through two out-or-proportionally large wings in a panic 30 foot wide fight and flight Obscuring disturbing the scheduled feature With a spontaneous entomological prison break Reality unsuspended Over-exposed Can’t be contained in a few metal boxes “Hey you! Down in Front. Sit down, you’re ruining the show” But I am finally detached free “Hey mister!…. You Show ME” Caitlin Smith August 11th 2006