Archive for July, 2009

“Somewhere Out There the World is the Same as It is in Here”

Lights Up.

We see a black ball bouncing across the stage from left.  There is a small boy chasing it.  The child catches the ball and runs back to left and exits.  From off stage we hear this dialogue: 

 

Voice 1:  The sky is falling.

Voice 2:  It is not falling.

Voice 1:  It is falling.  I can feel the wind in my hair.

Voice 2:  The wind is blowing.

Voice 1:  It is not blowing.

Voice 2: Your hair is moving.  The wind is blowing.

 

Two short men enter stage right.  Each man is clutching a black hat in both hands.  They are holding the hats to their chests and looking around nervously.

 

Man 1:  On air our hearts move.

Man 2:  Like a violin.

Man 1:  Yes, like the thin drawn sound of a violin string.

Man 2:  That is beautiful.  I am glad I came here with you.

Man 1:  Came where?

Man 2:  Came here…to where we are now.

Man 1:  Where are we now?

Man 2:  Here (holding his hat in front of his eyes).

 

We hear a glass break.  From stage left a tall man with a mound of dirt and a flower on top of his head enters holding up an unlit candle.

 

Man 3:  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen. 

Man 2:  Do you see that?

Man 1:  That light?

Man 2:  Yes, that light?

Man 3:  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen. 

Man 1:  No, I don’t see it and you should not see it either.

Man 2:  We should go see what it is.

Man 1:  We know what it isn’t.  It isn’t a light.

Man 2:  No, we should see what it illuminates.

Man 1:  It will illuminate nothing.

Man 3:  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen. 

Man 2:  I’m going.

Man 1:  I’m staying.

Man 2:  You’re going.

Man 1:  You’re staying.

Man 2:  We’re going.

Man 1:  Where?

Man 3:  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.

Man 2:  To the light.

Man 1:  Away from the light.

Man 2:  It could show us where we are.

Man 1:  It could show us where we aren’t.

 

The two men slowly start toward the third man.  When they are at stage center a 4th man enters stage right.  He is very tall with a set of false teeth setting on top of his head.  Man 1 looks back nervously and sees the 4th man. 

 

Man 1:  (Grabbing and turning man 2 around) look.

Man 2:  Where?

Man 1:  (Pointing) there, do you see?

Man 4:  Are you speaking?

Man 2:  What is it?

Man 1:  I know what it is not.

Man 3:  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.  Gentlemen.

Man 2:  God.

 

An APPLAUSE sign blinks over stage center.

 

Blackout.

 

Curtain.

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a moon

a moon

of moon

colors too,

too early

in the afternoon

is.

a

moon

of

colors

too early in the

afternoon

flooding the

evening room.

words borrowed from the ends of sentences in Steve Reich’s “Music as a Gradual Process”

2.

music rest,

music it,

material

is electronic is

mechanical or

changes music,

changes audible or

work

work

work

gradually changes is

patterns

is

patterns work

gradually moving for exclusive it.

The Richest City (A poem about my grandmother for Forough Farrokhzad)

What gives itself to the dawn

Is taken back at night

And given tomorrow again.

What is given to the dawn

Is taken from the night

And what is given to the light

Is given back to the dark

And whatever is taken from one

Is given to the other.

 

Your hands and feet and cheek

Have not withered.

Your arms and legs, my love,

Have not withered.

 

I have followed the soft line

Of your long neck,

Overcome with awe and curiosity.

I have followed the soft line

Of your neck

As if I were on the edge of an ancient city,

A rich city

That is only real

When I press my hand to its side and

It walls rise before me.

 

And wherever I have gone

I have not come back from

Completely.

My love, I have dragged my hand

Through those cities

And pulled you from the walls and streets.

My love, I have

Pulled you from the dirt of those cities

And I do not have to hold your hands

For your hands to be in my hands.

 

Who is it now that rubs their hand against my cheeks

When I am crying?

Who is it now that rubs my cheeks

When I am crying?

 

And if they wilt,

Your hands,

If they wilt

Then they wilt like the flowers wilt.

They wilt like the flowers wilt.

Becoming more, turned against themselves

And pulled away from the light and

Given to the darkness again.

 

What is taken from the light

Is given to the dark

And whatever is taken form one

Is given to the other.

 

Your long neck

Does not wilt.

Your long neck and side

Does not wilt.

But if they do

Then it is like a flower

That has crawled back inside itself.

If they do

Then it is like the flower.

 

Then it is like the dawn

That is taken from the night.

Then it is like my hand

That pulls you from the walls of a rich city.

And wherever I have gone

I have not come back from completely.

And wherever I am

I am not there completely.

Because I cannot,

Because I cannot stop.

Babbit’s Form

Oh

all the evening

sun is,

is, (raining) is

all our evenings_this

coming.

sleeping against a tree

inside another room.

ah

and i can not

i can not

describe your soul,

 

which

is like a flower

unfolding

on my tongue.

As it is and isn’t

Lights Up.

 

A light and some of the rigging above the stage falls and crashes stage center.  A black back wall falls forward onto the stage and exposes the off stage area behind it.  Another light falls as a ladder tips over from stage left and falls into the downed rigging. Various lights blow and pop over the stage, while metal and rope fall from the rafters.

An APPLAUSE sign blinks and, then, dies over stage center as the whole stage collapses in an airy collision of dust and splinters.

 

Blackout.

 

Curtain.