Streets Jump

I was holding a video camera in one hand
a bundle of burning sage in the other, “we’re smudging this town”
she says, she’s holding a ball of yarn
the size of a basketball with one hand and tying the end
of the yarn to the post at the top of the green stoop
leading to her apartment with the other. Jess Frick is now
in the process of creating another moving art piece,
so we set out around the coquina buildings
across the cobblestone street, she wraps some yarn
around a Minorcan grave, I record this all, the tourist’s disgusted
faces, cars honking horns at the string. Cars and hourse-drawn carriages roll over physical
mapping of our journey, broken thread waves in the wind. Then,
a stranger is at the door, saying “I followed this trail of yarn.”


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