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Our Voyages Endlessly Maiden

The phrase full cast of characters
in an article in Art in America
sends me out of the tub
and into my workroom
for yellow pad and pencil
knocking the wine glass
off the edge
chipping a piece from its base
which I'll need to find
before my daughter arrives
for an overnight and cuts her foot -
a no-no for someone
who goes up on pointe
as part of her daily routine -
a routine that will take her
I fantasize to a performance
for the mute heads
of Easter Island.
I've heard they sign
when no one's looking
commenting on civilization
and its discontents.
Have they seen it all?
Most likely.
Yet they fail to compel us
to rethink our strategies
for repairing the leaky faucets
that continue to plague us -
the leaky faucets
that have become earworms
of no mean insignificance
that we might revisit the silent era
with its mute cityscapes
and exaggerated gestures
captivating audiences
holding them in its grip -
a life not out of balance
scored by Glass
transporting us to a netherworld
where in a New York minute
we'd be able to tweak
all final segments
retrofitting the skin bag
well enough to fling it into
a field of dreams
recasting ourselves as the captains
of our souls
our voyages endlessly maiden.