|photograph by Pierre Verger ©|
(taken in São Salvador da Bahia
during Carnival in the-Brazil, 1950’s)
il mio giochi assurdi non finiscono mai
they were in an underground theater troupe
their connectivity depended on the price
of rubber re-usables, what could be,
skag-scummed-skimmed-from the whims
of progress and profit...
this wasn't a junk haven drama festival
rather it was all of humanity's ornate oozing
most often, it was what toxins were left
on our insides, wanting the outside: unseen part times,
monkeys, chains, calliopes and silly hats...
I ducked in, a step or two ahead
of what constituted the law of this land
asking the barker hurriedly,
"might I divine my future escape here?",
yes, he nodded, grin widening...
hmm, were there going to be tea leaves
in the actors' expressions, when I would be
scanning the sparse audience in shadowy recline
I would have to find out, eyeballing my chances
snidely, smiling at the Betty Boop cigarette girl
on the way in...
could I loosen my trousers
for the light and dark play
for pleasurable sin
could the ritual begin
without my consent
not until, I
the soul's entry fee
to have more flesh
for my bones...