WEBVTT

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So now I'm just going
to read one more thing,

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and it's called
"Baggage Claims."

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And it's sort of
a poem-- you can

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think of it as a geolocator,
a futuristic geolocator

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of atomic energy
inside the body.

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About going through--
like, think of it

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as going through the
space of some border.

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And this is called
"Baggage Claims."

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It was part of an exhibition
at the Orlando Museum of Art,

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where actually, I came
here from Orlando.

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Isn't that kind of cool?

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Yeah, it's far away.

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OK, "Baggage Claims."

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"The atlas with its gushing
promises, its radioactive

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embrace, enters my
system and catalogs

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my metabolic functions.

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My binges and [INAUDIBLE]
the world in microseconds.

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The atlas spurts out
of my belly and breath.

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It locates the basic
stages of being

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and nonbeing in my ganglia.

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In a streaming montage
of geocoordinates,

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tracking all my scattered
belongings and excrescences

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as they regroup and decay.

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I message spices,
[? analgesics, ?] and algae.

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I message magnetic fields,
cracking Antarctic ice

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and subtropical gyres.

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The atlas reveals to
me the nomic detectors

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of pollutants and
low mass particles,

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despite my limited
ability to love.

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Oh atlas, I feel your
seagoing stem cells.

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I feel the legacies
of cold, cold gas

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in the wandering mosaics of my
congestion and combat zones.

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I instruct you, atlas,
locate the molten oracles,

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collect song unit projections,
collect other bodies

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everywhere."

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OK, thank you very much.