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These poems
and photos are an
accounting, a gathering of evidence,
but for what case, in whose court, I
have neither the necessary insight
nor resolute will to say.
Examining
the evidence one must refer to those
seen and spoken of and to the one
who sees and speaks.
Those who
matter most in the court of this
accounting have not been invited to
speak in their own right.
And though
they are seen, where is the evidence
of a world seen through their eyes?
There is a disquieting impasse at the
heart of this project I’ve engaged in.
I can no longer proceed on these terms.
The photos stand by themselves, as do
the poems. The
words bear false witness,
though that was not their intent; the
photos, an intrusion into lives I know
little of. For
a time I hauled the city
on my back, but unlike those depicted,
I can put it down. |
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