Monday, August 9, 2010

Piece Work (new-ish)

It's not exactly speech, coming back here, but good and tactile. (Lisa Pasold / JKD)
The voice is mine, professed. (JKD)

Only to resuse materials given
Deep in the wings the musty black dimly lit where we each to each just a memory there
The word reuse not recognized
The failure to recognize
Spacing I can’t correct
The characters gazing off into the air or out but not at each other and never exactly off-stage never deep into the wings as if to acknowledge that marked edge of this effort
“I can’t correct” or set
Some words marks made near the present event
Down would have wanted more than anything else to be honest but the static of dream and wish and memory and the desire to appear in a flattering
Only these clothes in each the feel it time and effort someone bent over
Hear the whirring machine as you slip it on wear the clacking machine the hot room fabric dust a brief lunch break and lack lack lack lack
To let the mask as the phrase goes slip
Staring off and speaking each their piece the pieces of their our their our

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