from My Ghost Made an Art Movie Too


The ghost movie is everything. That is the case. There is a containment field around my childhood. This is drawn in chalk by stick figures pacing a grave marker. The world divides into sightings. There are only two in which a face does not appear. They are all made of faces. The perception of faces determines the shape of the art movie. Child walks through a field of long grass, then a forest. There are spots of sunlight through filter to make it obvious day. Superimpose ghost face and shriek for a split second. When you are afraid the forest appears. All paths lead to the art film.


Now I know my ghost’s movie will do me in. It says so on the screen: now you will die. The camera swings wide over a plateau on a crane. Looking down on a field of cattle. Splice to field of men in suits milling through field. This is my ghost standing at the foot of my bed. I am near the sky and as I watch, there are no mountains. Then a forest comes on as though the earth were spinning toward it incredibly fast. This is the forest where my ghost lives. If you do not find it, she says, you will die.