"Here come the planes.One WTC from East River Ferry
They're American planes. Made in America.
Smoking or non-smoking?"
O Superman - Laurie Anderson
One World Trade Center (aka Freedom Tower), is visible from all over New York City. The steel and glass skyscraper has the symbolic height of 1776 feet, and is one of seven buildings replacing the original complex which was largely destroyed in by the terrorist attacks of September 2001.
Minuk and I took the E train from LIC to meet with Ooq and Dita. it was a few blocks south of the WTC subway station to the memorial entrance
Firefighter memorial Minuk and I took the E train from LIC to meet with Ooq and Dita. it was a few blocks south of the WTC subway station to the memorial entrance
We took a wrong turn on the way and found ourselves outside one of the fire stations which attended the towers on the unforgettable day. A bronze memorial lists the names of the 343 firefighter victims. Around the fire station, the new glass towers are rising ever higher, and the steel bones of the Santiago Calatrava designed transportation hub are visible through the wire fences.
Finally we find Ooq and Dita at the memorial entrance, so we enter the memorial site via the rather desultory entry pass and security check.
South Pool Finally we find Ooq and Dita at the memorial entrance, so we enter the memorial site via the rather desultory entry pass and security check.
The memorial consists of 2 pools into which water falls continuously, surrounded by a wide plaza which is populated by many swamp oaks. The walls of the pools are in large black granite blocks, and they occupy the footprints of the towers that once stood there. Around each pool, inscribed in laser cut brass, are the names of the 2753 victims of the destruction of the buildings. Between the two pools, and still under construction, stands a museum, which for us will have to wait for another day, though through its glass walls we can see the tridents of rusted steel which once made up the facade of the vanished towers. Around each of the pools, people stand in the waning sunlight, as cool breezes waft mists of water from the deep pits into which the waterfalls flow. Thinking and reflection. Ani Di Franco wrote about that day, and I can hear the words of her stream of consciousness rap 'Self Evident' as I stare at the flowing waters and feel the weight of the tragedy that we almost saw live on TV.
yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of Noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its Indian summer breeze
on the day that America
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please
and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for it to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky
and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything I've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and I'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every TV
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to Brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour
so here's a toast to all the folks who live in Palestine
Afghanistan
Iraq
El Salvador
here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. Rushmore
here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of Oklahoma City
just to listen to a young woman's voice
here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream
cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
I mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
Jeb said he'd deliver Florida, folks
and boy did he ever
and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 George W. Bush is not president
#2 America is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz I am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
I've got no room for a lie so verbose
I'm looking out over my whole human family
and I'm raising my glass in a toast
here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
I dream of touring like Duke Ellington
in my own railroad car
I dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face
give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever
cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall
and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the Ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?
can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline?!
it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
must be more than poems
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train?
Self Evident - Ani di Franco
Looking at the cool memorial pools it is hard to believe that 21 years ago, Minuk and I stood on the observation deck of the South Tower, over 1300 feet above where the the waterfalls now flow, watching the sun set, the lights of the city brightening against a darkening sky, and the lights of traffic filling the canyons between the skyscrapers.
The outdoor deck was the sin qua non of observation decks, primarily because it was so expansive - one could complete a circumnavigation of the building, seeing the vistas from all points of the compass. After this experience, other observation decks seemed just not worth the trouble, and to this day we have rarely bothered with another.
And so off we went, in search of dinner.
The outdoor deck was the sin qua non of observation decks, primarily because it was so expansive - one could complete a circumnavigation of the building, seeing the vistas from all points of the compass. After this experience, other observation decks seemed just not worth the trouble, and to this day we have rarely bothered with another.
And so off we went, in search of dinner.