Photo taken indoors. No flash.
better known to his wives, his children,
poetic followers and brothers as
O. Sam A’Bin’ Laden
peacefully in his sleep. weird.
March 9, 1957 – May 2, 2011 RIP
At a red hot light
a bang like a shrill vacuum
stampeded my father who
looked up through the blue in his windshield
at the small-town sky in anticipation for
death from above.
Instead a crying girl
apologized for the bumper
she drove the black carriage
that transplanted him back
to his mostly suppressed youth in a
monastery in Lebanon
where he’d buried the dead between bombings
because the other boys were too afraid of ghosts.
Maybe it wasn’t 88
but that’s how I always remember it.
88 Ashkars I will never meet
slaughtered under cars, in their homes.
30 years and 7,000 miles away I’m safe and
I couldn’t imagine losing 88 (or so).
With the great help of Sarah Achor (Photographer, Artistic Consultant), Mathilda Longfellow (Artist and Performer) and Miharu Kato (Photographer) I am almost completed with my stop motion animated short film centering on the two sides of mathilda longfellow both as a confident bombshell and as a quirky boy. Over the past few weeks I’ve been to New York City for the hospitality motivation artists and Halloween, Cincinnati for the boys the dancing and the conversation and to Pittsburgh for the food the friends the dancing and here is some documentation of all of it.