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Showing posts from January 26, 2014

Pasternak Time: “Sorry, I missed what you were saying”

Pasternak Time: “Sorry, I missed what you were saying” Sorry, I missed what you were saying. I was thinking of someone from another lifetime, Her stride across the courtyards of youth, Her tempting laugh and forgotten lines, Her sharp readings and fatal portraits, Her lasting illusions, and erstwhile friends. These dreamy thoughts came from something you said. Sorry to have drifted off. Something about a play by Chekhov, That would be it. We are conscious the way the mind moves off In directions of its own, like in Pasternak. Her mother felt the film was not the book. Felt? “A complete misrepresentation.” The book makes you see up front How a woman can follow a man Through life, even when she is long gone. Or will walk around the corner Of another city, just by coincidence. She went off in search of diamonds. Maybe she found a few, Interstate, overseas, under a rock. The life of the theatre, The theatre of life, interchangeable, O

Pasternak Time: "Quasi people, with more haste than voice"

Pasternak Time: "Quasi people, with more haste than voice"   Quasi people, with more haste than voice, Face book opinions ephemeral as crosswords; Friends more by accident than choice. Stasi people brandish orders of boss words; Watch hallways; their digits rip-off files. Incognito always, they engineer lost words. Power people, in private frantic, in public smiles, Know who they banish are stars they fought. Half a people respect them, the rest revile. Non-people, sorted or bought or fraught, caught On the wrong side of the street, the wrong year; Grew up wanting something, last left with naught. Anti-people paraded in news reports, raise fear By their every mention, have nowhere to hide; Live abroad, by the sword. Their fate is clear. Real people, with normalcy on their side, Stay silent wrong times; asked something, rave. We live and let live with their small prides. Near people, here, we will go with to the grave; Think dear about