A Discursive Meditation on the Photograph by Anthony Anaxagorou

A Discursive Meditation on the Photograph by Anthony Anaxagorou – Flight Journal Issue 5 – SPACE(S)


of image and frame | holding subject matter by its considered light | can you see | sentences of angularity | the strange grammar of buildings | uniformed neon | the emblem of something flying | of something falling | middle-distance stare | a flicker in the new | how the popinjay moves to occupy more corners | garlanded by the matted hair of poverty | place the coffee on the table | anachronistic fashions | to overture whatever must follow | the boisterous kick of inevitability | rushing to buy a footprint in sand | a matchstick model of a church is left on a child’s wrist | pray or play | move around | hold still for me now | dead corpse | so stunning and dead | bomb blast silent | exploded flash | broken footage| all barren and ruddy | carnage of apathy | gruesome and exposed and somehow newsworthy | dreaming of porn | death porn | dead porn | murder fatigue | war is a woman trembling and nude | a man gawking | war is a boat with a continent in tow | your bastard grin | move away from me | chamomile tea calm | flower market Sundays | dreamy and bucolic | place it properly | move around | take another | antiseptic song | blue infirmary | where the days always have cancer |

and there’s tumours in the water | the nurses’ steady lift | onto the bed | is in memory of closed mortuaries and those further afield | hold my hand before I die and I love you | hold my hand as I’m born and I love you | a life spent asking for help | asking for love | do you love me | do I look good in this body | in this life | try taking it from over there | wear your skin proudly | ask the river to pout | ask the sea to smile | how many sunsets do we bury in ourselves | before we die | and still my sadness sits on its own | flummoxed and looking for more | can you see | can you feel the breath of each brick in this city | we are born amongst tumult and the wail of each other | and we grow into our fears | yes I’ll drink to that | and pray with dog shit on my shoe | and a bladder full of piss | can you see | everyone gather round | this is despair sending out a rescue boat | this is me wanting to look like I’ve been painted | by someone other than myself | keep me still | push me down | wash my thoughts before you shoot | everything is looking for release | say you look tired | say something different | ask me to look up | say there you are | can you see.