REPLICA The original of this was too ugly to be shown. It was a self-indulgence on the author's part. In sound, it would have been a screech; to the touch, an instantly forgotten shock. In political terms, it would have been incorrect: offensive to feminists, mistakable as Marxist, harmful to the author himself. Out of consideration for himself the author has suppressed this original, feeling that it said at once too little and too much about him. Too little concerning his poetic expertise. Too much, about his originality. It was so readily identifiable that it defied recognition. It would have been too ungainly to bring in today, too small to be properly seen, a problem to handle, like a caduceus wreathed in cottonmouths. Like a hamster rolling towards you pedaling inside its liberty ball where you sit in your visitor's chair asking "What's this clear plastic sphere with apparent intent on my person" it would have kicked the brainwaves too high with its surprise & nonsense. So says the author. Personally, I saw little to object to. I thought it only natural and interesting, if not much, as such. It was better than what's on television. except for PBS sometimes: let's hope this is as good as that. It beat the bible for brevity. It was like a movie called "The Missing Link" or "How Long Can We Hold Our Breath" or "Alone & Not-alone At Last." But then, I was caught up in my own version of a life, imagining a movie audience. "It is very beautiful but I wanted it all for myself" said someone at the preview, resuming a fight with her date. "This proves his ex-wife right" another woman said, delightedly. "The grunion must be running" and "the rubes are out in numbers" opined selected members, later pegged as being in denial. Siskel thought it too easy while Ebert found it unbelievable. As for the rating -- but It's the author's turn to interrupt... Imagined as a painting it exposed figuration and explained abstraction. Cooled off against a flat white wall as a photo at an art exhibit it begged for words, but these are the words that took their places. And the Good Old Days, were intention fully realized?
|The East Village Poetry Web