Dylan's Queen Jane Approximately:
That you're tired of yourself
and all of your creations . . .
and in the Summer of Love
Princess Summerfall Winterspring
confronts Phineas T. Bluster
about his untoward gestures
that back in the day of black and white
was tossed in a circular file . . .
Someone's voice catches on the sound stage
and The Man With A Thousand Faces
appears at the organ in the bowels
of Paris's Palais Garnier Opera House
with Christine awakening to a music box's combs:
I remember there was mist
Swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake
There were candles all around,
and on the lake there was a boat
And in the boat there was a man.
But now you're bottlenecked in a queue
for the computer at the library
with this CEO person gesturing to this IT person
and you know you've been drafted
into a focus group with
all the clowns you have commissioned
having died in battle or in vain
to rewrite the opening scene
to The Turin Horse
because Sea Shepherd lost the battle
against the whale hunters . . .
with Facebook friends defusing the shiftiness
seeping into your daily bowl of organic oatmeal
affixing itself to that rare elegant lapse
in a small gallery on the third floor
where long-limbed bronzes
crowding the poorly-lit hallways
have pulled it off . . . echoing Dylan's
and you're sick of all this repetition . . .
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? . . .
as the train pulls out of the station
for the Guggenheim's posthumous exhibit
of On Kawara's Silence . . .
Across the Hudson . . . Albany . . .
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| Scarlet Rivera |