AUTOPILOT Poem by Barbara Köhler

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN
WELCOME ON BOARD THIS IS MY VOICE MY SELF
I AM THE VOICEBOX I AM THE PILOT THE AUTO
PILOT I AM THE MACHINE. WELCOME WELL COME


Troy lies behind us: a mountain of rubble
a heap of broken images a burial field in
an older language stratum Babylonian frag
ments a ruined sentence construction the
stacked up meanings behind us lies Babel
a further destruction layer you see Troy's
FALLING TOWERS the real-time approach the
moment of impact your self on an infinite
loop KEEP YOUR SEATBELT FASTENED look and
listen stick to the data switch off all
electronic devices let yourself go let your
self go & keep a tight hold follow the
instructions keep quiet hold still we're
approaching an event horizon the eighth
circle of hell we are entering in we are
in an emergency: DO WE THINK, DESCARTES?
& what? outlying regions pasts temps per
du what's left behind dead material speaks
like: the arc of the earth the sea towards
the sky dislimning rivers glistening iced
over snowed under petrified rock streams a
cloudless nothingness time in flight etern
ity in the voice of Echo voices from loud
speakers in earphones fragments of speech
remnants of woven fabric dateless fabric
ated text that tells us what we say what
THEY say what SIE say what SHE says Fran

cesca da Rimini: per l'aer perso l'aer ma
ligno the black empurpled air that carries
us through which we are flying wind in the
wind that we are we two far in the second
circle of hell too far that day we read PER
ME SI VA NELLA CITTA DOLENTE read no further
there were no grounds just images: fire &
air the world as presentation & a will or
two. A confusion of voices languages a pair
of dark pixels far from any cry and falling
hand in hand it could be seen. do you recall
that still? Nein. THE PERSON YOU'VE CALLED
IS NOT AVAILABLE: PLEASE HOLD THE LINE in
the crackly scratchy hiss of old recordings
silvery das graun in einer handvoll staub
the brown and grey tones photographs almost
bleached gone for ever almost speechless
almost lost just these remnants of voices
of the long-gone animated on the answer
ing machine the light falls silent YOUR
CAPTAIN IS SPEAKING: THANK YOU FOR FLYING
LIMBO AIR no answer possible among the dead
letters on the page a DU mot à mot a motion
an emotion relics of minds miens meanings
still living whispering silence & things
speaking saying barely comprehensibly I


THROUGH ME THE WAY INTO THE SUFFERING CITY
THROUGH ME THE WAY TO THE ETERNAL PAIN TH
ROUGH ME THE WAY THAT RUNS AMONG THE LOST
.........AND NOW WE ARE READY FOR TAKE-OFF