Kate Eichhorn
Kate Eichhorn is the author of Fond (BookThug, 2008), which was short-listed for the Gerald Lampert Memorial Award, and co-editor of Prismatic Publics: Innovative Canadian Women's Poetry and Poetics (Coach House Books, 2009). She lives in Brooklyn, New York, and teaches Cultural Studies at The New School. This selection is from Fieldnotes: a forensic, a forthcoming collection of pseudo-ethnographic writings.
from Fieldnotes: a forensic A single and absorbing story made it possible to confront the bus terminal. Tea house half a mile away. The field where ours came in with a friend and sat down. Passivity let her take a seat there. We ran towards him and waved our arms and shouted still watching—one activist with a megaphone. But he continued until ours was underneath. An immediate impulse was to get her words out. Six years later an account of what ours down in the pathway of the bulldozer said with eloquence and insight: "We are ours in deep hibernation but we're all still sharing. The people here reminded me of a silent place where water is an afterthought to all descendents. This rambling I relocated curious about the bulldozers. Spent an evening split in half. A strange woman wandering into the path of tanks. Suddenly falling inward walking peak out from sleep. It's an attempt to erase you. Your homes waving. Exquisite spiral staircases draped in some kind of concern. Reoccupation between the horizon of extents. Camps in the consequences of resistance. Thanks for the centre of the city. I've been having trouble accessing presence and solidarity here on the outskirts of the outside world. Now I have led two tiny children looking after me into the sight of tanks and a sniper tower, bulldozers, jeeps—I hear an escalation . . ." (sometimes you can't get all the words out). Geopolitically woman keeps the key exploded. Sees orchards. Imagines greenhouses. The value of two fruit trees. Giant gardens think in a similar way. Hurt—me rocket attacks and shooting. You asked me to be terrified but detonated good will is a mistake. Playing with critical thinking and two babies I'm having a hard time right now. Blankets help. And this black shawl. Even smoking. Freedom is another phrase. Really small. But go and do your own research on extremist things. Have an outcry radar excursion. Make commitments to places you don't want to be. Get coverage of the infrastructure. Mention getting spit on. Pass this on. All these fantasies. Possibilities. Fantasies. Don't ask me about my mistakes in translation. |