Footbridge
Crossing
Weightlessness
Amputation
Spring
Break
Apocalypse The
Footbridge:
An
illegal,
simple,
plank
and
concrete
form
stretching
across
the
river.
Plants
wrap
along
its
entrance
and
exit. This
crossing
has
been
used
for
a
thousand
years.
It
is
the
best
place
to
leave
and
the
best
place
to
arrive.
After
September
of
2001,
a
sign
in
Spanish
and
English
was
erected
at
either
end
of
the
footbridge.
Now,
passage
is
forbidden.
In
the
morning,
before
the
heat
kicks
in,
wet
animal
tracks
have
yet
to
evaporate.
I
read
them
like
a
postcard.
"Hey,
I
made
it
in
one
piece
and
I’m
here
now.
You
didn’t
help
me
and
that’s
OK."
At
another
crossing,
someone
has
laid
concrete
blocks
under
a
shallow
part
of
the
river
and
when
night
falls,
others
drive
over,
without
touching
the
water
or
the
earth
with
their
feet.
Why
do
they
cross?
For
money
and
drugs.
Why
do
I
cross
and
cross
back?
For
leisure
and
leisure.
* Footnote:
See
Stallybrass’s
work
on
revolution
and
cobblers,
written
in
the
form
of
footnotes-,
albeit
an
elaborate
and
potentially
annoying
pun,
but
nonetheless
a
useful
constraint.
I,
however,
have
not
been
able
to
track
it
down.
It
was
always
checked
out
or
sold
out.
But
in
my
imagination,
others
are
reading
about
the
downtrodden
(who
are
always
on
foot
or
on
their
feet
or
underfoot…and
fist)
and
how
the
cobbler
fashions
resistance.
(Perhaps
through
powerful
guilds?
Perhaps
with
shoes
with
secret
blade
compartments?
Who
knows?!
Not
me.) Or
perhaps
it
was
a
different
kind
of
constraint
that
is
useful
–
one
that
provides
for
weightlessness
and
inquiry
and
desire?
Were
you
thinking
of
the
stirrup-
the
way
it
makes
your
foot
float
in
the
air?
The
ground
then
becomes
something
far
away
and
useless--
and
the
foot,
she’s
useless
too.
* In
front
of
the
El
Paso
Airport,
the
city
has
erected
a
34-foot
statue
made
of
18
tons
of
bronze.
They
are
formally
calling
it
“The
Equestrian.”
However,
it
was
commissioned
as
and
is
referred
to
in
the
airport
literature
as
a
depiction
of
Don
Juan
Onate,
a
17th
century
Spanish
Conquistador,
husband
of
the
illegitimate
granddaughter
of
Monteczuma,
and
first
governor
of
New
Mexico.
What
are
the
dimensions
of
the
conquistador’s
bronze
left
foot
suspended
in
a
stirrup
(16
feet
off
the
ground)?
In
Espanola,
New
Mexico,
at
the
Onate
Monument
and
Visitor
Center,
the
right
foot
of
another
Don
Onate
statue
was
removed
with
an
electric
saw.
The
thin
scar
of
the
repairing
weld
is
barely
detectable-
the
foot,
starfish-like,
appears
regenerated.
The
events
that
set
the
cut
and
weld
in
motion
occurred
over
400
years
ago,
but
like
a
wake,
these
incidents
reverberate,
pulsing
towards
the
shore
of
the
Present.
In
October
of
1598,
a
skirmish
erupted
when
the
occupying
Spanish
military
demanded
supplies
essential
to
the
Acoma
surviving
the
winter.
The
Acoma
resisted;
thirteen
Spaniards
were
killed,
amongst
them
Don
Juan
Onate’s
nephew.
In
1599,
Onate
retaliated;
his
soldiers
killed
800
villagers.
The
remaining
500
women
and
children
were
enslaved,
and
by
Don
Juan’s
decree,
the
left
foot
of
every
Acoma
man
over
the
age
of
twenty-five
was
amputated.
Eighty
left
feet
were
separated
from
the
leg. The
left?
Why
the
left?
Stacked
or
strewn? * Pre-Christian
Eve
walks
out
of
the
Garden
of
Eden,
into
a
desert
of
sin,
left
foot
forward.
Post-Colonial
Onate,
balances
on
one
left
leg
in
contemporary
Espanola.
If
the
orientation
and
trajectory
of
the
foot
determines
behavior-
from
here
on
out-
Onate’s
step
would
be,
by
Christian
symbolic
tradition,
towards
the
pure
and
the
good.
But
he
opts
out
of
a
right
step
forward.
He’ll
stand
in
place.
He’s
a
statue. * The
amputation
of
statues.
Why
remove
a
perfectly
operable
foot?
It’s
doing
its
public
work
(encapsulating
an
international
story
of
adventure
and
empire?
Relaying
a
living
history
of
conquest
and
use?
) Bootless,
footless,
the
Man-Statue
comes
to
represent
the
saga
of
globalization-
botched
trade,
disposable
bodies,
decorative
resistance.
And
his
heart?
It
just
isn’t
in
it
anymore.
* Last
Note:
A
new
type
of
flip-flop
has
been
fashioned
for
American
college
students
on
Spring
Break
in
Mexico.
A
bottle
opener
is
fused
to
the
sole.
Our
drunk
American
scholars
forget
the
foot
after
the
beer
is
uncapped
and
pouring
down.
The
bottom
of
the
shoe
became
the
tool
that
takes
them
away
from
the
foot
and
towards
the
torso.
But
their
psychological
occupation
of
their
physical
center
is
not
suffused
by
the
heart
and
its
heavy
compass
or
desire
and
its
furious
mouth.
It
is
illuminated
by
a
curious
light-
fluorescent
and
modern,
surveilled
and
soused. Without
feet,
left
or
right
(sin
or
ethic),
they
are
light.
The
young
Americans
flew
in
and
flew
out
of
Mexico.
Like
archangels
and
engineers,
they
are
citizens
of
light-
locating,
generating,
and
sustaining
lightness.
The
Lightness
of
Atoms.
The
Lightness
of
a
Vacationing
Divine
Providence.
The
Lightness
of
Sea
Spume
and
Beer.
The
Lightness
of
the
Girls’
Hair.
And,
the
sandals,
they
are
a
light
material,
too.
And
who
was
the
flip-flop
cobbler?
Where
is
the
Zapatista
now?
Is
he
traveling
towards
the
light,
swapping
resistance
for
apocalypse? Revolution?
Revolutionary
Footnotes…?
I
can’t
find
them.
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