Aldo Tambellini
FEBRUARY 18, 2006 9:15 P.M.
SLEEP
DREAM
the sharp sterilized blade
cuts a deep incision
the anesthetized flesh
gives no resistance
the surgeon’s skillful knife
moves with swift precision
the saw opens the ribcage
the heart is exposed
removed to a frozen location
replaced by a machine
beating its rhythm
SLEEP
DREAM
the dangerously enlarged aorta
is cut
& traded for a plastic tube
can the faulty valve
be repaired or replaced
SLEEP
DREAM
the world still rotates
inside the insane asylum
somewhere a suicide bomber
blows his body to fragments
an orphan’s eyes
speak of hunger & death
SLEEP
DREAM
they are pumping liquid gold
from the burning desert
the price of a barrel
is rising high
its stock soars
cold greedy eyes &
green cash machines
SLEEP
DREAM
the surgeon
reconnects the heart
to its original place
the world still rotates
inside the insane asylum
a deranged tyrant
is reprogramming it
for new devastations
is the heart beating
or is the machine
pumping the illusion
Stefano XXXXXXxb
(UNTITLED)
there's a beauty to the near death of sleep
and the awesome collective power of dreams:
dreams are everywhere there is humanity
dreams are the maps towards the tranquility of
psychic rest that quenches the tongue of insomnia
with the cool liquid of words
that refresh in times of distraught
awake after thoughts
dreams
create an awareness of the good and bad
of everything that is all at once
how do we put it to words
I think of Boris' sleep that night
in the concentration camp
and his confrontation with that evil
with the distorted images of propaganda
that created world pain
those nights as prisoner and the nights
as confronting artists
Aldo alone that same night somewhere in
Lucca in the moon filled streets of
silent steps by the church
the wind kisses the night
and yesterday is again now
within the night's asleep
Aldo
finds his friends alone
somewhere in a resonating video
forever
Inside a boat
traveling coincidences and circumstances of
re-meeting friends from the eternal
hell of moments and history
replayed in random order the meetings and
and friendships so specifically
beautiful
Brought back from a shared dream
of cut a chest
and of flesh turned into electric
skins of silk projections
intense reds
so red, that it begins to flow into
red seas of blood so surreal
flowing past Dante incognito
a beatnik shadow upon building
ornaments and gargoyles
snarling into siren flashes
cameras build of personalities
and mirrors that then become
seas of blood shining upon puddles
near the street of concrete cold |