October 11, 2012
white noise fan blades
a needle on a record
turning circles
after the song is done
a pair in black & white
sleeves tan helmets
wrestlers regarding one another
their heads protected
is there something fragile
in their thoughts
their knees braced in white
a third figure horsey tan
stretches a foreleg
lows her head
they are aware of her
the men are nobility sparring
my heart my nerves my pain
this is practice
the rules are clear
the courtesy is real
the courtesy is staged
sorry sorry
o the countries
we send out
to combat the combat
they are unaware of me
this catches me off guard
the chair is society
the floor an arena
what’s beyond the floor
is wild
the men give up society
the women take it over
they share laughter aggression shame
mouths covered hearts breasts
legs overclosed
the girl in the chair is a child
a referee
disturbed disturbing
chairs
where is my helmet
the men share colossal embraces
low lowing as animals low
there is tandem suffering
i feel no pity for her
that referee the solo one
i can not see her conflict
in another body
pshaw!
another one alone
sings & so is not alone
then i see them the pair
music & chaos
creator & destroyer
stutter & song
they work together
in a moment of championship
one brother shoulders another
as if succeeding him
but that turns into an embrace
as the shouldered man falls
a little paris sidewalk pops up
oop oop!
another surface is possible
but it is raining chairs
atop our après-midi
this is not that
rural breaks up into wild
rural condenses into city
the single ones join up
& one becomes the pack
in a crouch a lunge a pose
their strategy
their breath quickens
keep it moving
don’t bore the guests
a man in a suit enters
pushes a low rolling cart
the story teller
the lights dim a film begins
a sonar an embryo
waving incremental time
weathers seasons fade
transforming shape & shadow
cats to rabbits turn
having had a similar dream
the bodies arise
rejoin the game
make thunder lions
on the gymnasium floor
they are not fighting
but assisting one another
in a struggle
a threesome lines up
in a movement-sound sync
to a laugh track
hahahaha
a wall of noise
a squeal
a street car rain
the sounds are growing
more & more cutlery
metal coin machine
a drone of blood rushing past
they are aware
of something
above me behind me
is this because
or why
they are wearing helmets
they are beating the ground
as if preparing for
or finishing something
thank you thank you sorry
was that the war
or the moment before the war
team play mixed
with awe & fear
interrupted by grace
group grace
they are children adults
their age is unclear
the are old old
able & young
they have no age
the one in the plaid
is private school girlish
rebel tartan wiccan
charger
against the back wall
one still moment
then the tribe again
hunching crabbing playing
their play is ages old
serious infected
their auditorium
is the establishment
their helmet is an apparatus
of time wealth sport
is an emblem of war
love death
something tells them
play prepares them
ever outsourced
their faces eyes gaze
like fingers spread
a growl grows
from a clearing throat
is taken up by the group
nearing vicious
the suited man
illustrates the sky again
he is cave painting with film
he draws a bunny
the mouth catching something
smoke bubbles air
a pink a blue a lonesome
rabbit sick with the letter E
branching thunder spitting spray
a white swirl that stays
when the rabbit fades
like a world within a world
a cosmos
the team is watching
present waiting on the sidelines
for the dream to end
they put their waders on
waist-high ready to ford
the stream again
the feathers in their helmets
are fancy eyelash forward
they are plastic walking weebles
chanting performing a line
a dance a tender sport
a man makes a song
in a chair chanting
beating a percussion stick
they dance a sexless dance
a ceremonial gruel
patriotic
but not a country i know
they are tethered eagles
fixing their feathers
in the wind
they sweep the sun & the moon overhead
like islanders natives in a creation story
their heads faces turned like sleeping planets
they dance the directions
air escapes a baton twirls
their dance is repeatable
cultural feminine thankful
they are frigates holding hands
making shapes
until one comes forward
in a moment of expression
to oppose the pride
calling them to a wounded pose
the one facing the many
the pack
she does not care
head high
she parts them
of course they are dogs
& not birds
she knows this
the dream continues
quivering
a lead bunny
arms too long
arms too heavy
bound
a round mouth
reproducing bunnies
that trail off
as sheep do
drawing in the night
a continuation of things
a boy & a bunny
grow to a kiss
burst into particles
the dream
a bareheaded man
helmetless undefended
stands alone
a man in a dress of white shirts
elegant breast leg hair baring
a stork of intensity
a train tickling thunder
something approaching worry
a weather vane
he turns
surveys the space
in lengths
agonizing muscular
pulsing to heights
he turns at last to us
we are here
i feel myself here
& the waders line up
& the wall stands witness
& the lone man rushes out
sees himself cries
his cage his fate
the group steps forward
removes their waders
their feathers their helmets
he has led them here
into this undefended space
he stands facing us
they are approaching from behind
he knows he is resigned
he waits as they approach
~ a k mimi allin
//
October 13, 2012
Paris enters.
Alice is in the dark.
A subtle movement. A spinning. Unsettle then wait. Those movements of the head, like prey, like predator, in the eyes. Repeat after another entrance. Sharp repeats that mark territory, that mark the chest here in the heart.
Interrupt—collapse
Interrupt—collapse
A violence in the collapse.
A chair that bangs in collapse that is tossed and shuttled and tossed and dropped
this is no student…..
Side by side & isolated
Help then undermine.
They hold each other, they drop each other
Press & wait…& wait.
Each shape supports, each one touching upon the dismantling
Is this destruction? Is this rage? Is this for me to look away, to cover my ears, to watch through binoculars?
She is sonic glue, she is holding it together.
Will she finally hit someone?
And then the night came…..
We erased and smeared, then filled and emptied, as if a huge milk stain
or a blurry fleeting protection.
Test it! Why? then they became the pack.
In—-light
and then they rolled together at him
then the river
the bird and the flap in reconciliation
flap into continuity
trout and a ritual….that’s the wading
the wading in slight thuds
squeaking and hinderance
and she is growled
She hands him his she
He takes his she
the passion of his she takes him in small whining breaths
a pup might be born in this manner
arms holding off the past
weighted to the future
he is an animal of grace and eyes of wideness
They still fish
and plie
his his is returned and leaving a trail a whiff of predator of prey of those paws and gasps
a white cotton and some zippers and he is not benign
ARE THEY WITH HIM?
~ Vanessa DeWolf