Continuing with my translatory and transformatory parlor tricks, I rewrote the poem replacing each word or line with synonyms.
________________
Exit, Stage Left
Her speech arrives like a curtain, crept
over by songs known only through the singer's sex-life,
and he's a man imagining the drama clothed
in a wash of bourbon -- he plays the fool. The theater
stifles, the curtain calls shuffle against each other,
quick-handing actors arrive en scene,
are sickened, dead, are alive again, yet
miserable enough to start the process anew,
opening with blossoms: ignored both by insects,
and the broken statutes in the background.
A gauze-wrapped spot beams down --
a ship whistling, ringing out the bells with
A reverberate cry, and the idea of fission
rounds with it. And so the sets freeze up,
as if the actors could escape only
by the rotations of a chair or desk and not
also through soft speech, as it first moves
inward, and then blows itself out.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
