Dali
What a treat it would be for me
to create soles out of royal ermine
replace their eyes with rubies,
and instead of their living in the sea,
set them like white envelopes
on the most oriental tapestries to be found



Reciter
Dali refuses to accept Creation
and three and a half billion beings
retreat beneath their tent
to discuss a new compromise
with reality.

Speaker
Dali has shattered the mirrors
that give peace of mind!
While people search for a countenance
he paints passports for astronauts!



Reciter
Joan of Arc daubs away Dali's sweat
with the tatters of Anne of Brittany's
chemise.

Dali
Anne of Brittany's chemise floats around
my grandmother's bedroom.
I hear it myself,
beneath her window

it says:

Escarabat, bum bum
posa-hi oli, posa-hi oli
Escarabat, bum bum
posa-hi oli dins del llum

(snail-snail boom boom
put in the oil, put in the oil
snail-snail, boom boom
put the oil in the lamp)

The sky grates the stairway
I bump into a capuchin
cursed be that monk
the whore that bore him
Give it to him, girl, give it to him girl
Give it to him girl, on your tambourine

Anne of Brittany
Erase the skies and the earth
with silk cloths
soaked in sweet and sour acid.

Mingle light and darkness
in the eyes, navels:
the wells of this world.

Escape into the night
eating stars off a skewer
and sleep the day away
beneath the sterile fig tree.

But if you were God
You would not be Dali.

Thank you very much.

"Well, that was a mouthful of allegory, filet of soul style," Olivia commented to Lucky before leaving the house for the vintage shop she owned with Princess Pearl. "And nobody gets it - well, not many right now, but that will change, trust me," she vowed, clicking off the computer with the knowledge that more was yet to come, wishing with all her might that she possessed the powers to convince Pb Airship to add the finishing touch to the Divine Dali's masterpiece.





  

Copyright © 1999 - ad infinitum
cybersybils.com
cybersybils.net
Bovican Books
All rights reserved.