(for Paul Dixon)
Rave survivors stand in line for an
Autograph of the non-Fellini, the
Kinked late blooming mondo-mind
Dressed as Isabelle Rossellini.
Cross to grannies who wait to be
Able to deliver a line or two about
Ingrid, never, almost never Papa:
A city of bicycle thieves on La Strada.
Another night results in twelve
Proposed projects, two collaborations,
Seven triptiks and a piece of glass:
Thrown not molded, not stirred, neat!
Isabelle, dressed in Armani, full tie
Short hair, played a moment or two
Of Dietrich as the Great Dane pondered
Why. “Why not,” answered Harvard.
But M.I.T. harbors Chomsky.
Kandinsky never knew not to know.
Solzenitzen trembles at the universe he
Wrote into existence. Welcome Comrade.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1996. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.