dor

© theother press

 

Culture

February 4, 2004

 

The Organ,
Project: Blue,
rama @

The Brickyard

Le

Cam Reed
OP Contributor

Yes, it’s a Forest. The bipeds stay on the
outskirts and the pincushions complain
about a prick. A choco-wrapper waves me |
to the centre. The third piggy’s home !
stands alone. I’ve entered paying the price. |
I could be an Owl. Sitting perched, |
watching over the forest’s floor. Trees \
creak and my head nods to their sighs. |
Geese and goslings gather to drown them- |
selves. The squirrels scurry with the fire in
their mouths sliding lower to the fur. No !
one extinguishes it. The squirrels invite |
the flame towards them and taunt. The t
bats click-click away at those with their
feathers in place.

My

© Photo by Angela Blattmann

Jeff: “Vogue!” ' had tossed sheets over our eyes and let us
Give those who groom daily the atten- | stew in the rising boil they had created.
tion they deserve. They will acquire the | Bees swarm. I am forced to breathe |
alpha-chromie of their choice. i deep—I choose to hold it until the sound
The swans named Le Drama begin to | stops. Kiddos whimper.
sing. Shivering cries pass the time. Neck { I: “You won't be eaten.”
stretched and beak in the air, she sways to! Arteries roll along the floor collecting !
the creaks and drops. What a charming | dirt and momentum. Can we feel a pulse?
strut. i Flock of Seagulls shrieks about laying |
Night falls undetected. The wolves ! someone's eggs. Pendant-wearing pen- }
come in from the side. | dents squirm out of their holes.
Time passes while My Project: Blue | The heart starts beating.
tosses breadcrumbs leading the already fat ' Time stops. Don’t bother clocking it. |
children to their cottage. I had to close my ! I leave my branch to watch the bleeding.
eyes. I had to find light somewhere. They | The boys swoon, some in vain. The girls 1

 

swoon, some in vain. I detect little move-
ment other than...

The video is on pause. The picture is
clear, though. Aptly placed signs. Five
crows begin to caw. Everyone must stop
to hear what they are saying. The collec-
tive shiver begins and the animals start
hoping. Mallards kiss each other with
tongue. Webbed-toes collide. It’s just The
Organ. It’s just that the wolves are out and
the plumage isn’t ruffled. Everyone in love
has found each other. Beaks smile. What's
come over us? The heart?

It’s just beating. It's The Organ.

 

 

 

eR epee sO) errata

VAT Cy ayy ay)

 

UC) TMs

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