Friday, August 22, 2008

the second post - two prose poems based on Woody Allen's new film

Hey fellows, here is the second post (and it's a double within a double) for all you lovely people out there in the readerverse. I saw Woody Allen's new film, Vicky Christina Barcelona the other night and was inspired by it to write these two prose pieces. The basic premise of the movie is a love triangle, and a particular scene sees Scarlett Johansson knocking on Javier Bardem's door, ready to engage in a tryst. So that's where these pieces of wunderbar come from. Enjoy my friends.

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crash of piano stairwells down into a night of sleepless I love two girls in the spirit of old trees split by lightning. my face is easy to imitate. I have large cheeks and hazel eyes and a nose that is slightly stiff. my teeth are something else; she knows and she knows. I have a face of mischief, but it is my knees that buck. I kick. I scary and terrible and cobweb and old wooden floorboard and toss the steel hammer into a sheet of plate glass. we want the blood of the world; I love no one.

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a knock came upon the door. he opened and she, blonde as fire, entered. they

shared some wine. his fingers were trilling. she told him, oh, of the void and

the sense she had of sensing emptiness. she told him that her dreams were of

ivory elephants and purple spears in the ground, or the sky, or the sea. away to

the sea, she said, over and over. Antonio joked about his beard, his face, and

told her he was a brilliant painter. she believed him instantly. I know of such

things too, her eyes told him, and they kissed. the carpet was not a place for

love, but it held their bodies and careened under the motion of hips. all over

the world of volcanoes and glass fountains and the angry lion cages and the

asses of the hungry and the poor and the destitute shaking and screaming and

saying oh yes oh yes we are vessels and of this you know everything my love

to be a flute in your hand or a snake underfoot and shoes on a wire. ugly night

winds came upon the windows and Zelda lifted her nude frame from the floor.

if this is the best of all my intentions, she whispered. Antonio lay asleep,

innocent. his body sighed, it heaped, it held still then rolled. he was so

defenseless and Zelda began to cry looking upon it. the wine crashed in her head

and she ran to the bathroom. the mirror was wanting. the toilet was wanting.

shower head and tile floor, wanting wanting. she sat down in the midst of the

room and counted backwards from ten. all is easy, and she imagined herself

knocking once more upon a door. and tossing wine. and a wind and a marriage.

Antonio woke suddenly and realized he was alone. the wine served him better.

he placed his hands over his chest and began to count upward to one hundred.

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