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#1
January 26th 05, 08:37 PM
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Attencion!
I require a Conte crayon, to
Mark the X, Where the observer Stands...understand? Yes, ‘The Bark Stops Here!’ Remember your dreams.” ~ Double-A O, any Time... [O, by the way ~ Does that fireplace still scream?] Attencion! I require a Conte crayon, to Draw… Yes, Draw… ....the Room, Dramatize the Score’s Scene… “Drawing Room, A Dramatic Score…” …the desire to explore Taints the evening’s noiseless jazzy, rush ~ Agitation, for three nights running, accompanies Denial to Studio ’54, laminating that Golden Red Door. “Show me the ingenious apparatus,” I insist, All done, Zestfully, crowding the steaming dance Floor… Invited Images, Y’all! Come on in ~ Attencion! I need a Conte Crayon, to... Draw… ....the Room, Dramatize the Score’s Scene… OOOOO, noooooooooooo! Mama ~ My falling balls, cascading all over The floor….. The Style of a Late Manner Invented all this imagery, concealed me behind my own lazy, too ~ Well ~ Mannered ways. Me? O, yes, I am the spectator Hiding behind your door. So, like, know! The curtain parts, celebrates. The Spectator, that Agent, comes over… Together, we celebrate the discrepancy, explain, thusly ~ The Context of Action Conditions The Illusion. O, but all this confusion… Ghosts drop by to pay respects. What’s Next? You paper yourself, an imaginary surface, Paint your finish with pastel colors, endless varieties Portray the face required to play your part And figure out our play, Today. My Polar Bear, Asparagus, my topiary, My l ‘espalier says, “Got escarole?” To which I say, “No, Just endive.” “O. Well, what about a honey Hive?” No, not. Just bumbling bees. “Achoooo!,” Says he. Bless you! A buzzing Spectre circles me… Shooo, you! “No, not! Me, your Ghostest, Your Host, I’m Alistair with the Most, That One Who Mistook His Hat,” Alistair thoughtfully enunciates To us. O. I know, yes, you anchor “All Pets Considered!” “C’est moi!,” says our host, “Just dropping By to advertise, a public service Announcement ~ ~ Morning Wood Inter ~ National Acoustic Public Radio ~ _________________________________________ “All Pets Considered” _________________________________________ ~ * ~ Your Best Mourning Afternoon News… * & Public Commentary, or Your Best Community Tittle ~ Tattle _________________________________________ Every weekday, Just before cocktail hour, that’s, for those Not in the know ~ Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, & Friday ~ 5 pm To 7 pm. _________________________________________ A Morning Wood Public Broadcast Initial Color Scheme _________________________________________ * Dogging Arts * Fogging Minds * It’s a Star * _________________________________________ * An impenetrable self Reference locks the only door. I think, to myself, My Polar bear bears Resemblance, tangles my detail, costumes himself in varied, Very silly attire. O dear. So strange, so considerably odd. Don’t you Say? “The furniture rebelled in disagreement, Don’t you see?” I do, I see. The furniture plainly stated its argument, Stood its ground, Has refused refinish later afternoon, said To us all, standing here, “We no longer conform to function, We no longer intend to furnish the enterprise.” But O, woe, I painfully exclaimed, What about the Chippendale Dancers? “Or Duncan’s Fife, who will play That pipe?” added Alistair. Leering, Asparagus, argued, “No, Duncan’s Fife, that’s a Lyre! A stringed Instrumental variation.” An impenetrable self reference Has locked The only door. “We no longer intend to conform, We stand our ground.” And what’s more, I now eternally know What’s Next! Yes, my cargo arrived Yesterday. So there! So know ~ The architecture, Now drawn into the conversation, casts about, draws A room vaulting overhead, itself, vaults Through false arches, A clever conceit. Here, have a seat, I say, do my level-headed best To be hospitable. “A moon struck me,” Our architecture explains. Yes, I reply, that’s possible To see. “And now, clearly,” According to Asparagus, “You filter magic fairy dust, Our illumination.. “No, you mean,” Counters Arginine, hitherto unseen, That feline concealed cleverly behind the curtain, “A moon-struck illumination Filters through the dust clinging to the windowpane.” Alistair, now standing on the first Stair, says, “A fine point, yes, My dear.” Meanwhile, Agitated and Denial Dance… And me, I Ponder carefully my confusion, consider This inane amusement, and fitfully Call for an intermission. But O, lo! Before I go, Please consider, thusly ~ This filtered dust, This moon-struck illumination Streaming through the windowpane, all this confusion Spreading its blanket around The Event… How do we interpret these scenes, This sense, A simple sight-reading providing so few klews? What’s Next? What If What’s not is? And if so, What if requirements lift, As the mechanical Descends, Directs the action From A very odd repertory of contingent estranged Solutions? * Or, if Not. What? ~ * ! _______ Blog, or dog? Who knows. But if you see my lost pup, please ping me! http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo 
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