TEXT poetry, prose and script October 2022

Abstract

or adjust one dial, kaleidoscope it, telescope it, tell something that almost looks like a story you knew but isn't quite, or make it necessarily universal or achingly particular, or a window or a door or a table or a bed or a lie, or disclose that a part of history can be seen as this story, or through the lens of this story, or keep the story unchanged but play it in a different key, tell it in a different voice, use it to prick a conscience or a finger, get distracted by something shining on the ground while the story parades past on the horizon, add blood, add fire, add love, take all of that away, find the bones of the story, grind them for bread, bury them under a tree and listen to hear what will sing in those branches, make three attempts at retelling it, or seven, or twelve, dangle it in a stream, use it to keep curses at bay, use it to call witches, use it as a map, fail to rely on it, be failed by it, build a mythology out of it, make it jazz/punk/rock-and-roll, smash its icons, strip it for parts, make a mosaic, a shanty, a mansion, a coat, a spell, fit it for speed, steal its names, its breath, demand it keeps its promise, keep a promise for it, or to it, or with it, be faithless, be faithful, take it in, let it rest by the fire and eat from your plate, name it (or be named by it, or give it your name), find it in the ashes and raise it up, find it on a doorstep and raise it as your own,