Sunday 21 March 2010

if she was called hélène then why is she no longer spoken of there?


this is a poem in fourteen lines.

it takes place in thirteen locations.

there is a scene in a room where twelve bees bleed & bend iron bars with owl's teeth.

there is a mistaken identity in which she climbs the volcano to look down & inside.

she finds herself as if beside magic.

there are additional mirrors to be adduced according to easy formulae.

there is a police car & it imagines life as a laboratory.

if today is sunday she relaxes across from the pool.

the stars come out of the sky & drape themselves about her breasts.

she traverses invisible streets everything looks at her.

it's a world without love & she looks in her mimetic clothes at her mimetic clothes at the lovers in their windows.

she has a hair of head.

she scratches the two words nightingales into her wrists o so slowly that everything stops

.

2 comments:

  1. like this a lot Simon. Thirteen locations indeed. Instructions for a conceptual or performance art piece that perhaps cannot fully be performed as instructed. I like the police car that "imagines life as a laboratory" and "additional mirrors to be adduced according to easy formulae." Ha ha. Yeah. Transgressive and expansive. Keep re-reading these thirteen locations . . . yep yep . . . dig it!!! :-) :-)

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  2. Thanks :-).

    I was thinking of doing that - re-reading the thirteen locations, mutating the text/performance instructions 13 times with this as an origin. You've just made my mind up for me (which is always very welcome!).

    Cheers, Simon

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