Despite the pensive architecture or perhaps in hindsight because of it her hat was made of exuberance resisting history she made her way dazzling due to her 80s bowieesque benatarian stylings but wobbly and floppy marionettish on to the darkly backlit stage of the empty theater the madness of the hollow void echoed in her mind’s ear her silent scream clawing the flesh from her face her eyes bulged for a moment her tongue felt thick her teeth like boulders grinding in the back of her mouth and a sneer took over from the inside out this was not comfortable she was medusa now and the gracking gagging gash of it was almost too much to bear especially considering she had initially conceived of it as a starkly restrained and esoteric experience of a glitchy minimalist sort and so she read the poem she had intended amidst the pensive architecture her exuberance resisted backstage history going up going down in a handspun second variation on a motif of things left unsaid ~ you’re next she said looking back at the trough of the setting sun pouring molten light down beyond the frame she liked to call it her schizophrenic transitional period her words pulled twisted and distorted into something new the poem was much too long so she sat in the abandoned chair under the spotlight and the infinitely transient color of milkweed seeds or petunia appeared out of the blue.
Curated by jenessa for Treasury Challenge NonTeam