THE DARK BLUE SNAKE FLARES UP FROM THE
and lashes itself upon the mukti’d air
writhing the clouds of unspoken speeches
and making fragrance of hemlock & copal.
I see the lovers seated in groups upon the hillside;
in heroic whispers ahv ghroar ahnd torreze
reading their fates upon the scrom whose bare arms
unroll them for the dimmed
but bare and staring eye. – In the garden
we are beyond such nonsense and we smile.
OOOH HAH TATHONEY
MEEEEREBB NOH OOHGRIER.
Grooohrr manes uncurl from our checks
and we know it. Thah Oh.
Rite of Spring by Igor Stravinsky and and a very odd staging by the Pierre Boulez Orchestra.