Williamson BrasfieldUntitled from Creosote Garden, 2009 (photograph)

At the start of the century I remember nature for the first
time. When I saw a bee laying on a rock in the middle of
the road I decided that I look down too much. Cheer up!
When I saw one on the floor of my bedroom, I pushed it
with my toe. It moved as far as my toe shoved it then
stayed dead. I felt like a giant, but a giant jerk. Did that bee
end up in a landfill covered in refrigerators and toast rinds?
You bet it did. Maybe the world isn't made of things I
broke, but it sure feels some days the sun is backing away
from me. I'm ready to take a running jump at your face. Out
West is where the real fun is. Firefights re-enacted daily at
just after 12 and 2. Men fall through windows suspended
on little wires. We bump our head on a window and say
that we might be ready to fly, panning the sky, flooded now
and then by the light.


Christopher Citro and Dustin Nightingale