there is nothing but role play, at any given time, in any given direction, running in place, and getting there on time - an all together infinitude of thoughts and gestures, neuron migrations, memes on the move, muscular habits in concert, singing songs they think that they thought that they thought that they rehearsed, right now. the songs are singing about a singer. the memories are remembering someone who's remembering. thoughts are thinking about a thinker. actions are acting as though there is an actor, right now, as reading is reading about a reader. everything else is a dream. everyone else is news, anecdote, warning or fantasy. but you here and this here is so real, that it's not happening at all, so real that there's nowhere to rehearse for the rehearsal, the drums are already talking. the masks are already dancing, they rejoice - at play, at war, at love, at home, abroad, above and deep down below, in the earth, between your fingers - look through them, so very dead and alive, for the very first time...
"lamentation!"
these are the very last tears you'll ever cry.
No comments:
Post a Comment