Under the lace smoke your skin
maggot white wriggle and silk
My lady, shall we dance?
Viennese jazz poured
into silver flutes
even the bubbles are real
Turn turn turn
in the imaginary Wienerwald
something is shining
*
Take me (she said)
Take me, mon Capitaine
Or is it only that every girl loves
a uniform?
(You think you're so wonderful...)
This mask you see is actually
My face.
Take me, Herr Doktor!
Take me - or is it only that you
dream these things
*
That woman with the feathers on her head
Is only a bird
She will not harm you
Her death is an act of pure
Imagination. Come, put your hand on her
exquisite corpse
Do you see?
Turn turn turn
"In this poem I have attempted to capture something of the legendary fluid camera work of Stanley Kubrick, as well as his use of the significant recurring image, the way he interlocks scene to scene by turning and twisting, using images that are the same-but-not-the-same to create a dream-like trance in which dream logic becomes the key to meaning." GA
