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icicle // amy garrett-brown

Like the French “little death,” reminds us of the state when a dripping roof becomes a necklace of 14 phases of solid water, a tunnel of ice making itself over and over again. “Such a heat leaking from the interior of a building,” a mineral, a crystalline solid: hydrogen oxide. A tunnel erasing itself, gloved in the water cycle, non-metallic, with legs like spiders, splinters, fragments of inside and out. A runner, legs gloved, who seems to limp along, recreating and dividing—one leg, then the other. A frequency: created by the sun, waves of light, sound, radio, microwaves, melting, moving, 106.7, KTVB Channel 11, a man from beyond, a tower, a tunnel recreating itself at the speed of itself. The electromagnetic spectrum—legs of color, of sound, Vitamin D is absorbed by exposure to the sun, our bodies remade, gloved in light and sound—they, magnificent machines of synthesis and energy, seem to limp along.