The Escape Artist Accepting the Possibility of Antideluvian Life
alan catlin
In his cage, arms trussed inside a
white straight jacket, suspended above
the water tank, he is the escape artist
defying the crowd's sense of proportion,
getting ready to cheat death, is the man
with dark brown eyes, deeply creased brows,
staring intently, straight ahead above the
heads of the watchers as the winch chain
is slowly unraveled, he is the man who
claims to be the heir to Houdini fulfilling
the promise of handbills and posters pinned
all over town, is the man who writes the
mercurial words of the sideshow routine
a master of ceremonies reads as the cage
hits the water, rapidly sinking, he accepts
Hart Crane's 101 days of enforced silence and
solitude before the suicidial end, accepts
all of the East River into his eyes; looking down
into the water all that can be seen is
blurred, is a column of rising bubbles,
bursting as they break the surface.
