Your past lives gather in a room filled with familiars . . .
You're dumbfounded . . . speechless . . .
standing outside in knee-high grass . . . green and metronomic . . .
An upright bass player on loan from the produce section
of the food co-op runs changes over the retractions
you're riffing . . . prompting you to peel a dead language
from the interim speaker of the House of Crazy
who casts his die midstream and arrives at a reception
where the scene unfolds with blank stares . . .
Your mother's eyes redact the script . . .
A director calls for softer thought bubbles . . .
The move trips a flushed response hurling the entire cast
into the bowels of a banned book . . .
You want this hot early fall day to be enough but it is not . . .
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| Antonio Palmerini |