21 April 2014

ASTRONOMIA: A Failed Lullaby

A NOTE ON THE STYLE
It seems important that this is written in a kind of pseudo-verse.

It’s poetry for poetry’s sake, quite possibly the most egregious thing one can write, but in an age where nobody else seems to be doing anything for poetry’s sake, I think it’s okay for poetry to start working for it’s own behalf.

The action should be played like community theatre Shakespeare, Huge swings at the big emotions and themes, teenage breathing and desperately crinkled brows. Arch pronunciations, unnecessary British accents and o’er-brimming hearts may be employed as you see fit. The syllables should be huffed and puffed at full-sail, packed with emotion.

Above all the language should be enjoyed. Whether chewed, savored, spat or relished, the syllables should all be morsels of a dish

Costume should be whatever style is contemporaneous to the date of production, mixed with that of antiquity, a la a director’s attempt to reimagine or “update” Shakespeare. For instance, if a production had been done in the 80s it may have been costumed in a Madonna meets Malvolio style. One done circa the date of writing might be dressed Hipster-bethan (Hipster-Elizabethan). If possible, the costumes should be cheap and ill-fitting, purchased from thrift stores or whatever shops offer pale knock-offs of the current trends. Bedsheet togas pulled back with tacky brooches might hit the spot.

It takes place on a modern rooftop, but it really takes place anywhere there’s a wide-open space and a confusion of stars.

Two Lovers. Young. In each other’s arms.



SHE

Tell me a story.



HE

     About what?



SHE

Read it from the stars. Cable new constellations

From these dead bulbs of expired season.



HE

I know not the speculations of the ancients

Nor own facility for new invention.



SHE

Sing seedling legends flourishing

From murky garden night,

And equal joy will I disperse

To pay the tale’s delight.



HE

Like crystals in snow’s newborn visage,

There was twinkling, baby light

peeping from newborn eyes

upon a world well-known through

past incarnations. The pointed light froze,

Growth stunted by some early trauma,

breaking back upon its young path.

Forth and aft it heaved, as if to dislodge.



He tries to kiss.

She moves.

He tries to kiss.

She moves.

He tries to kiss.

She moves.



SHE

No no no, remix the sky,

Tell the glowing garment legends,

Conjure the Galactically-striding Gods

Implicit in the weighed arrangements

Of starfire.



HE

                        They’ve gone dim.

None rise. The universe-sized myths

Lie dark, unkindled by stars both dust

And cremation. These eyes are filled

With the milky gauze of glaucoma.



SHE

                           Attempt. Do not let

Them lie as they are, hearts without thump,

flatlined, comatose, wheeling on the

gurney of night. Revive the soul its

phantom celestial embryonics.

Awake the night’s thousand eyes

And start them blinking in wonder.

The stars retain their antique shape.

Zeus’ spine still holds it’s proud posture,

It’s the Cinerama behind the eyes

That’s been reformatted.



HE

I subscribe to cheap reality,

Unable to address the cosmos,

Able to address the girl downstairs.



He tries to kiss.

She moves.



HE
These tales you know dim inkling of,

All were independent spun of many

Estranged tribes, heirloom superstition

Crutching where science was unable to furnish.

Now these same fictive arrangements, lying within

Astronaut’s toe and satellite’s eye,

to mine, die amicably, the quizzic lies

supplanted by friendly knowledge,

which offers more localized wonder.



SHE

This comet-fire gliding through

My synapse is no mere chemical,

I assure, nor the night a simple periodic table;

This blood riding through my veins

Like a school of back-turning dolphins,

Is driven by the tides of what you call

Speculation, mine own hypotheses

Climbing to scaffold the airy absence

I find in you, your base of infinite disintegration,

Shifting as the wild desert floor of an hourglass’ Vortex,

this quagmire not looked on as desolate canyon,

But as space for mine own sweet milk to pour

And so fill a halcyon lake.

Please, tell me a story. Trick me into belief.



HE

(Making excuses)

A boy puts his hand in the clarity

Of a stream and comes up with salamanders.

Forgive, I know my own mind, which

Becomes most apparent through reasons.



SHE

I feel my stomach turn with the cold, blue ache

Of ancestral heat. Put your hand to your heart:

That is a star’s pulsation in your chest.



She takes his hand and puts it over his heart.

He draws it away and feels his wrist.



HE

I can’t find it. I feel nothing.



Pause.



HE

       See those there?

Appearing to be the hung lamps

of a Chinese wharf? Those are the

3 television sets of the equinox,

burning all night with peaceable

offering of Sham-Wow and Doo-wop.

A trembling effigy ignited by wayward comet,

wicker planets composed in triplicate,

where Andromeda stops to window-shop.



SHE

                                    How caged your sky!

I see not low blue torches crisping

Crème-brulee moons. I see the golden threads

Of a magnanimous queens bountiful scalp!

What raging torch’s hellfire these sparks seed!

Guiding our way to bed across

a long galaxy’s journey…



HE

May they be the repositories of souls.

May the evacuated spirit venture to the rim

Of the bubbling universe, embedding finally

In a permanent memorial of starfire,

Outpost graves of dim remembrance,

The night a churchyard, all my generations

Within one eye’s panorama.

Help me to populate future

Legends for our descendents.

As we are made of the stuff of stars,

so too may the stars be stuffed with us.

My blood is heat on parade.

Kiss me.



SHE

                      Will we die together?



HE

Let’s die now.



SHE

Wait.



                                    Not yet.



Pause.



HE
As the rearing of a fish from a pond

Longingly seeded with coin, so floats a story,

Flesh newly birthed, to kiss his food at the edge

Of our ample celestial lagoon.



He leans in to kiss her.

She moves away.



HE

This is no connect-the-dots!

This is full-bodied spectre!



SHE (Singing tauntingly)

Connect-the dots

La-la-la-la

Connect-the dots

La-la-la-la



HE

A true vision appears, a thing of my own mind,

Phantom blockade, transparent doll

of Newfangled God-Hero.



SHE                

                                        What shows this blockade?

Or is it a tale cobbled in haste solely to lull a child to bed,

Of no pleasure or matter to the teller himself?

A bribe? A mirage drying on the approach?

A counterfeit document hoping to gain passage.

Passage to my passage, mine own

well-lubricated wormhole?



HE

                                      Hear a legend of my own making,

Relevant to the situation of our day, and most ripe

This night, shared between us:

      See the cartoon dog,

Sized like a borealis, birthmarking the night,

Bloodlusting after groundhog of fur and flesh.



SHE

Hardly lustful, it chases as one dribble another.



HE

It turns at heaven’s pace,

The hog never caught always fleeing,

The dog never catching always chasing.



SHE

Hark, above, a cat, yawning at the futility.



HE

Hark, all your Gods are cats.



SHE

Hark, All your cats are dogs.

I’m Egyptian. I worship suns.



HE
How fertile these incumbent flames!

New, new, new! I did wish the story told already.



SHE

Only in the telling of two stories, or four, or more,

At one star, keeping them imperative,

Will the gated eyeballs soon revolve

To stare their twin eclipse’s liminal illuminations

Into the misinformed darkness of your horizons.



HE

When sunning on a hillside,

Beneath a day light sky,

I can cull as many creatures of a cloud

As whittler an irascible menagerie

Of the whole North Woods.



SHE

If calling the soft downy piles

“vapor-scooped sundaes” be culling,

“Bales of mothballs in a mother’s basket,”

“Pillows brusquely unstitched by houndsmouth,”

then thou art the best molder of flesh

since God’s own hand. It would serve you

to pound your own flesh, unlikely as you are

to touch it otherwise.



HE

In the young days, before to exercise

The imagination was made chore,

visions did enter the mind

like the sun-imagined day a house,

pouring unbidden through every window.

A picked-up stick instantly morph’d

Into wizard’s staff, requiring no trick,

As if touched of a Midas of “If”.

Now vision must be worked out

Like a solitary fornication.



SHE
And how the fields are a-drought!

God beds not acloud.



HE

God sleeps in the subatomic,

The omnipresent catalogue of unrest.

Everyone suspects this. I went many years

To school to refine my belief of it,

To stamp out youthful fabrication.



SHE

                                          Suit yourself.



Pause.

He looks up at the sky.



HE

It’s a carousel if you want it to be. Look.

I want to grant you an enchantment.

I want to animate the slow-dashing light.

Look: a pony, a sleigh, a procession of elephants.



SHE

They have deserted each other

on the way to the circus train,

And so are lost, holding their own tails.



HE

No, they balance trunk-wise beneath

The black Big-Top night, pocked with spotlights.



SHE

I begin to see a family afloat, juggled each to each

On the steady pendulous trapeze of midnight orbit.

I begin to see the flaming comet shot out of a cannon.

I begin to see asteroids spilling from destroyed rock

The same as a brotherhood of clowns spit from a car.

This revision of Heaven is long awaited.



HE

Yet my own belief fails at the threshold.

The stories are jests, untenable.



SHE

You exist to disprove.



HE

                                       I exist to prove otherwise.



SHE

The magic is not in proving either way,

The magic is in making it up.



HE

There’s magic in knowing.



SHE

There’s magic more in making it up.

You and your armies of the known,

Invading the last unspeculated inches

Of the dark universe. The sky is a blanket

We pull over our heads to tell stories

By the moon’s skeletal flashlight.



HE

The night is the day scalped,

Bald of protective illusion.

I’m a denizen of the boneyard earth.



SHE

You are heavy as a Devil’s throne.



HE

You have the right to private speculations.



SHE

I’ve filled a book with them.



HE

                                                You have?



SHE

An omnibus of spurred fabrications.

You’ll never read it.



HE

One story.



SHE

                    Maybe another night.

           

HE

                                                            Please.

SHE

My lids gum, sticking with sleep’s mesmerizing sealant.



HE

A synopsis?



SHE

Imagine the multitudinous times of day,

Offered by every star, every galaxy,

and every planet’s infinite angles

on respective daybreaks.

Now, paint this Technicolor profusion

Into one patchwork atmosphere:

One planet, capped by a panoptican sherbet of skies,

Every multi-leveled horizon bent back,

Studying it’s own light. This is my book:

A composite sky, swirled with every minute

Of every sun, every page imagined

By differing weather, filtered with every chemic,

A disoriented, incoherent vertigo lunging

Between moments, a spectral collusion

Of every conceivable vantage of broadcasted air.



HE

I am fundamentally baffled.

I prefer an atmosphere draped in black,

Blind of a shroud, all its thousand eyes

Clasped in permanent wink.

The stars, why have them anymore?

They’re estranged, too far away.

The night wants to be dark,

Let it fall totally.

Zap them out.  Let them choke on their

Own light. Be they black holes.

They tell no stories.



She gets up and walks to the edge of the roof.



SHE

The Wilde Beestes of Heaven are running

Silently through our sleep.



HE

When the snow fell, I thought it was

God’s dandruff, the stars parachuting down,

A billion stars invasion.



SHE

The Wilde Beestes of Heaven pound

The dusted plains Of midnight eyelids.



HE

I know better now.

Snow is simply a conference of water

gone cold in its slow collision.

I am a very intelligent man.



SHE

Listen…

Do you hear them?

The Wilde Beestes of Heaven?



ORION, the constellation, falls to the stage. He is outlined in light, with bright stars aligned on his body as they are on the constellation, his belt shining. He is broken and carved and without certain limbs, like an ancient statue.



He jumps to a ready position, like an injured hawk or ape torn from its natural environment. He freezes, and looks into a vague distance, listening like a burglar who has heard a noise through the wall. It is clear that he is blind.



The stars of his belt begin to flicker and fade. It is as if a power surge is going through him. For a brief moment he becomes blindingly bright, causing the whole stage to swell into daytime. Orion falls.



BLACK OUT.

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