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donall-dempseyPoems
Paris pines for us: ...whines for us. Lurks outside our window like a great big urban puppy. We're being held prisoner ( inside our room ) by a vicious sadistic flu bug who refuses to let us go. We are missing David Sirosis's new spoken word night. Indeed, all we have seen of Paris, is: the inside of ROOM 411. ROOM 411 overlooks that famed necropolis CIMETIÈRE DE MONTMARTRE. The dead stand outside ROOM 411 ...and stare. And...stare. Envious of even our flu-ridden life. They crowd together in their stone telephone boxes like fans at a Dr. Who convention who have all come as the Tardis. "Come...come!" they cajole. "Come...join us as the glorious dead!" they plead. See the great Nijinksy leap over a moon. Offenbach, Berlioz et Degas act a a celebrated Greek Chorus. The flu grows weary let's its...grip...slip & we escape to a poetry stage & suddenly it's PARIS LIT UP & I'm on stage. A bemused amused Parisian audience wondering why the staggery hairy Irish post stumbles & wanders in search of his words & carrying all of CIMETIÈRE DE MONTMARTRE about in his ahhhhh...ahhhhh...ahhhhhhhhhh ....shoooooo....head!
0
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS...I DIDN'T SEE PARIS AT ALL!
Paris pines for us: ...whines for us. Lurks outside our window like a great big urban puppy. We're being held prisoner ( inside our room ) by a vicious sadistic flu bug who refuses to let us go. We are missing David Sirosis's new spoken word night. Indeed, all we have seen of Paris, is: the inside of ROOM 411. ROOM 411 overlooks that famed necropolis CIMETIÈRE DE MONTMARTRE. The dead stand outside ROOM 411 ...and stare. And...stare. Envious of even our flu-ridden life. They crowd together in their stone telephone boxes like fans at a Dr. Who convention who have all come as the Tardis. "Come...come!" they cajole. "Come...join us as the glorious dead!" they plead. See the great Nijinksy leap over a moon. Offenbach, Berlioz et Degas act a a celebrated Greek Chorus. The flu grows weary let's its...grip...slip & we escape to a poetry stage & suddenly it's PARIS LIT UP & I'm on stage. A bemused amused Parisian audience wondering why the staggery hairy Irish post stumbles & wanders in search of his words & carrying all of CIMETIÈRE DE MONTMARTRE about in his ahhhhh...ahhhhh...ahhhhhhhhhh ....shoooooo....head!
https://youtu.be/8t2K_AovpAI
donall-dempsey
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donall-dempsey
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
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