And she crimson cirle was helpless of fifths prone we she us all of us defenseless in this uneven give and take of need and retribution lapsed passions & false reconciliations all our body parts are objects dormant colors waiting to explode into passion best kept secret best kept to ourselves ---- in a spare room moromoroso of picture windows in pastel horizon A scene from a marriage of unequal parts snow falling as angel dust on sterile ground ---- The first war I ever fought was in a bedroom, the enemy a man I loved, who slapped and hit and held me down and held me down Listen: I am sleeping, I am dreaming I am dreaming someone elses dream. ---- This is a modern passion play appassionato a multi-colored nightmare in shades of drawn on a canvas fire scratched on skin with palette knives with ten penny nails nails that pierce the flesh solo instruments wire brushes teased to points for tickling drum skins human skin a jazzed duet for percussive instruments a memory yellow feroce with of bent light red-orange broken bones chiuso tickled keys hung out of reach in a locked room This is the way slaves are beaten The way slaves are whipped into shape in locked rooms spectral boxes onyx Shes like a rainbow interlude coming colors everywhere---- fractured into mirrored images mechanical parts parts of some horrific stress testing at what point will something break? ----
Contributors
Spring Supplement 2002 Issue
Winter 2002 Issue
Home
