Wojnarowicz Over Washington

Dear David,

For a time you were a ghost, for a time a corpse. Haunting waterfronts, an hallucinatory underworld, making a friend of the vivid dead. You glided through cold, selling your body until you got too sick to stand and no one was buying. I followed you silently. listening to your whispers, cool or sour.

I saw your fever dreams, where we together flew over your corrupted maps to now unblocked spaces. Where you are the Unterminator. Making visible what was thought hopeless, and making tangible its powers. A smile of rotted teeth never carried such charm.

You are under attack again. We are under attack again. I had thought that time would have done it's decay job on those old bastards, and Christ, they ought to be waste. Time isn't what I'd hoped and your work is strange to resist adoption. If nothing else this assault proves that capitalism will not consume all, as we have sometimes feared. Our loves shall be the bones stuck in the throat, the dark and feared areas beyond the conqueror's map.

Love always,Tom

(from the forthcoming film zine The Pictures #5. http://picturesundergroundfilm.blogspot.com)