Surrealism is in the Eye of The Beholder or A Response to Anne Carson, of the Cycladic People


Her voice was a thing out of Gormenghast.

A melancholic melody pierced; deep and unknowable.

It was then that the poem got out of hand.

-5-

(Mists of Avalon)

-5-

The prose started—interrupting, until it stopped.

A violent violin waited; taut and quivering.

It was then that the conjuring began.

-7-

(Rushing rivulets of tone)

-7-

His rhythm was a storm from the Odyssey.

A broken bark stampeded; quick and thunderous.

It was then that the words lost all meaning.

-5-

(Ad hoc amnesia)

-5-

The mood spoke—clear, as a murky rain

A perfect porcelain floated; bright and lifeless.

It was then that the flowers wept.


(The performance of By Chance, The Cycladic People begins at 53:52. It was part of Seattle Art’s and Lecture’s: Evening with Anne Carson)

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