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Re-mediating: From paper to Yankee Stadium 

An author's note: This one was a challenge to say the least. Prior to this project, I had never opened iMovie or anything more advanced than the photo booth on my Mac, and had some significant growing pains along the way because of it. This video does not, after all my screwing around with technology, have a voiceover of the poem itself, but I am ultimately happy with that. My intent for this video is for it to be played as my poem is being read over the loudspeakers at Yankee Stadium on game day, the anniversary of 9/11. Much like the videos that accompany teams as they head out to play, I want this to be a montage streamed over the video board in center field played as a tribute to the victims of 9/11 and the New Yorkers who came together in Yankee Stadium to pay homage. Thr poem itself would be read aloud and displayed for those in need on the video board as well. 

 

This is arguably my most unfinished piece, but like most of the things in this site, they'll get there....

On first base they stood hands, hearts

Layered. Badges glisten, helmets gleam

Pinstripes stand attention and wet eyes stare out

Left field the land of the free.

And the flag it hangs in the distance

Dancing a waltz to the echo of

Oh say can you see

See lights of fire trucks as they pass by Men and children, women and elderly in masks

The temperature is over 65 degrees

There are scarves and gloves and boots

See dust swirl and settle, buildings crumbled and burned

 

By the dawn’s early light

In the Bronx the building buzzes with the force of

A hundred thousand bees

That whine and bellow and sway against innocent breeze

And on the green gleam the shiny buttons and blaring white

Of police women and men who stare into the night at a flag

Blowing in the breeze

They salute and U-­‐S-­‐A rains down upon them with tears and Fist that call for blood and cry for revenge on a field of dreams

And like the wife who stopped the sound of grief From flowing for her husband, her fatherless children There is silence

Hush, bubble and quell

And scratch the mound and look in for the sign

 

Snap, Pow

Bang, boom, boom

Boom

Boom

Play Ball.

 

School is let out early and there’s talk of planes and mom

She hides her face, hides the tears that skid down her face

There are shrieks and weeps but mostly just faces

That saw in person

That saw on TV

That see in their dreams

They do not cry because the are from New York, faces Sunken in in shock because this is New York

Someone will pay, the man says through the screen

“You” his eyes defy,

“You’re either with us or with the terrorists”

 

Pushed from behind with the force of 2,996 hands

As the once dormant crowd boils and explodes and lava

It pours onto home plate and into the pile of Yanks U-­‐S-­‐A, louder, thumping pounding

The heartbeat of a city.

The plate is crossed and from that bench pinstripes surge and Swell.

The crowd erupts

They groan, in perfect harmony

 

What’s so proudly

They hailed and the moon it floated up and nestled

Aside that flag proclaims

If only at the twilights last gleaming.

 

We will win

We will survive

We will thrive

We will not die

 

Oh say, oh say what is that patriotism harkening

That calls for blood from a splintering bat 

That makes a baseball field a battlefield

An opponent a terrorist?

 

It is a glorious win

Not one to pad stats or egos

A triumphant win that healed the souls

Of those who lost that day

The ones who wore masks and scarves

Who cried and shrieked and prayed to God

For revenge

Who promised that we would win.

It is American patriotism

The kind that takes no prisoners

Seeks blood for the blood of its own

Good ol’ boy patriotism.

 

Oh say Is that spirit restored?

We won the game, do we win the war? Does that star spangled banner

Wave over those New York Yankees

Those lost in the buildings, in the planes

Those hearts still wounded,

Over the land of the free

Of the home of the brave.

 

It booms over the stadium walls “Please welcome, The President of the United States”

He walks and there is no more silence

He walks and does not stop ‘til he stands Just inches above the ground

On top of the world, on a tower built from heroes

Who scream and cry and cheer as loud as they did

Two months ago when two towers

Collapsed with their world beneath them

They chant, louder “U S A”

It bounces off the skyscrapers

Makes the cameras hiss.

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