Text for performance: response to Beyond the Parasol poem by Stephen Leake

…You’ve been here before…Do you remember?…I would crawl through this without falling forever…just to catch the light…this is my point…in my view. For me and for?…the cloth shows the darker shades of the former self…of you…for me…you are a warning.

This is not necessarily wrong, it shows you my hunger for life…the tempo and tone sights a trial that draws a line between you and me, it runs rings around that which it cannot control…I tolerate…hate?…no.

But if every confusion was to bare itself out…forward and out…only to fall in your pond, your ‘only’ pond. How much would you make? How much would you be worth? Are you…can you… to me you are the morning. How much are you worth?…You don’t have to use every part. because the plastic palimpsest covers the shards of what used to be…

I see. What it was. I see more of you than what you had known. Just let yourself…breathe…

…this is a habit…I’ve seen it before. To me you are consistent, you are delightfully consistent. You are obsessed…you need to let yourself…get caught up on. It seems to keep you there forever.

It starts with the finger. To touch with the tip of the finger starts a tremor which sees its way clear from me to you, it states…many things…and, because I know you, I’ve seen you here before – watching…it reminds me I’m here. Crawling, trawling, and sprawling every which way?They are humming, swaying, praying…they’ve started.

But I like this beat…it keeps me moving…for you…with you.

Cue and front was the face, to change this, at the forefront, we could once again rely on maintaining the f.o.r.m.e.r ways…but I like ‘this’…it reminds me of my hunger. It sparks glistens, tight sparks, all that glistens’ is not gold, but…no…you keep me there forever.

Calm in riposte but quick to move – there. And to turn, and for you, only you, back…again.

…you keep me watching. It’s easier, the higher up you go the faster you can. Only part the way? I’ll leave you to go alone. You seem to go back forever. You don’t have to use every part, here again, I understand that. Scents like pears, arms out stretched, I could stay there forever, what would you say to me if I said…

…think…

…green…

…but I need you, it reminds me I’m here.

Bow, kneel, slumber saloons stretch and fix. Forever? A trial is sighted that draws a line between you and me. It runs rings around our pond. How much is that worth? And as the plastic palimpsest covers the shards of what used to be.

I see more of you…

…with you…

…let’s just let our selves get caught up on…

…you were there too…

…do you remember?

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