|
Biographies Guestbook |
MagdalenaHoled up in a cheap hotel Magdalena looses her contacts. She kicks out all the windows, fighting off evil forces -- real and imaginary. Magdalena rarely knows what time it is or which way to make a left turn. She packs any numbers of hats and forgets her pants. Love walks right up, says hello, but Magdalena's home watering the plants. Last night high and drunk, Magdalena considered how a sane woman might embrace madness: "If I could stay three feet away from myself, watching all the time, I could do anything!" Looking at herself in the mirror, Magdalena screams, "That eye you use like a camera, can't see the movie you're in -- so cut it out!" And she does, and she does for good this time, for good this time. On the way to Magdalena's burial after that three day wake, not once did she stir in that sleep like stone. We rode in a big car, smooth, chrome gleaming, shining like a Rolls Royce. The quiet cemetery drifts with Magdalena’s voice. The city's lights come on, the stars come out Magdalena sleeps at last, she dreams that she’s found her way back to this world. In the morning, being alive, living, it's easy to see the red of dawn, a thousand towns waking up. Look, there in that alley...see that old woman sleeping in a shopping bag of newspapers? Is that Magdalena? I thought I saw Magdalena up against those brick and poured concrete walls, spraying them with butterflies and singing "all is lust, kiss, and love" I thought I heard Magdalena say, "Hey, my friend let's pack and leave for the South of France, I thought I heard Magdalena say, “Let's go paint outside in the gray sunlight.” I thought I heard Magdalena say “Hey, my friend -- let's not forget how to dance. Let’s not forget how to dance.” |
Page Updated: 6/12/00