Ian Randall Wilson – The Bandleader’s Last Gig On


Ian Randall Wilson

The Bandleader’s Last Gig On Venus

This afternoon in our bedroom epic theatre
a minus one act farce.  Genuine
antagonists do not exist.
Opportunities, obstacles, parallels, variation,
     counterpoints — all this, and I’m still
     wearing socks.
We take advantage of the deliberate use of pause.
Words and pauses together a sexual
chiaroscuro of reverse.  The wandering
floodlight.  My blue quilt.
These props we discard as I probe
the comic triangle.  Bermuda shorts.  Laughter
can be rhetorical.
There is a desert there, nourishment,
no matter.  I call out
to the four winds to save me.
The stuff from which dreams, etc.  Made.

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