Аннотация: Charles Ives (1874-1954) `The Circus Band` (Michael Tilson Thomas, San Francisco Symphony & San Francisco Symphony Chorus) https://youtu.be/gGHi4WWreOw
By Andrew Alexandre Owie PERPETUUM MOBILE (Rondo Capriccioso) Like a photographer or a vampire, a good poet is an invisible man in his poem.
He neither shadows, nor is reflected in mirrors.
He is invisible because he is a poem himself. He is invisible even
If he describes himself as visible. And vice versa.
Or pretended to be someone else: la donna in an automobile
Who failed to fasten seat belts and lies
Strip-teasingly in a ditch without straps after vertigo
Beneath generously collonnaded Parthennon
On Agora market place like a Japanese gothic Lolita
Who listened spellbound to a sparkling red barrel organ
On the public square and occured to be a poet
Mesmerized by a magician who was another poet
Who had hidden himself in his own poem.
Evening. A janitor bears his lantern through colonnades,
Murmurring: `Fuck you, you littering tourists!`
And suddenly being aware of the earth's roundness
Feels sick and is going to fall in a fit into the poem
Deprived of triumph of reading it all the way.
This was not his ultimate goal. It would be the truth
If the poem were ever written and read
By an invisible poet but he swoons with joy of a
Carousel`s non-arresting movement.
Windmills of his mind, perpetuum mobile of his poem
An ultimum goal of his soul, a paroxysm of self-nearing
To sweet infinity of P.T. Barnum`s Circus.