Deconstruction of the Blues

Catwalks

17 CATWALKS So much of what really happens to me is imaginary Ivan’s reading for instance He steps to the podium glares smoothes open the manuscript and begins to read aggressively shouting and posturing spitting light And yet there’s a maidenly sway to his movement something diva-ish split flash Ivan is a woman rouge fever spots lipsticked Bopeeped he declaims cranking the wings and pulleys of his surrealism and from where I sit the front row I can see there are catwalks spreading behind his eyes Milked over by the reflections in his spectacles they sway out eerily in emptiness What joy what echoes of recognition as I step out Foley is there of course Barbara Guest herself there in those spasming spaces Brenda and Bob Joyce Andy and Bruce Do you see what I mean? We meet here most truly all sex all brainglow these catwalks threading the secret city Above the sky flowers and thunders Below words tropes gleams down the bloodstalk of the century 18 We are more fluid here larger in the larger each a sensitive tentacle of the hydra each an acid roseate fold of a tremendous stomach here meeting here godcells of this text ...