The next one is called "Movie".
Do any of you take delight in going
to the movies on a beautiful sunny day?
[LAUGHTER]
This is like going to the movie on a beautiful sunny day.
[BACKGROUND NOISE]
"Movie"
"Exit.
Blood red beacon in the dark.
The screen gray like smoke, gray as a scrim of ash,
the red curtains swirling round it like flames.
Red curtains, red walls, red seats, and carpet.
Even our faces under red reflected shadows,
me and two kids, and a man.
Sunny outside, unbearable.
Sunny after five days of rain, the day
demanding to be entered and filled,
the clouds having dropped from its enormous shoulders,
and the duty to be present for it.
To say, my, what a fine summer day.
[LAUGHTER]
The locked off fifth of cinema five,
pinky masquerading as a hand.
I went in, I waited for the flashes and burns
of another blockbuster, for the requisite explosions,
and hit for the red aesthetic slaughter.
And the two kids, what did they want?
A little chaos, a little blood to make
their day, their unpredictable fragmented day?
And the man, what did he want?
Oh long tunnel out of despair, distraction
of someone else's story.
But the waiting, the silence, the red, like a dark,
like a lullaby, like a cave.
Because wasn't there the urge to something sacred in it,
the cars, and kids, and hysterical sirens
unable to penetrate the air conditioned vessel
where we sprawled or slumped, mute and violent.
Prima materia for the chemic operations
of thunder and light in the pitch man's hands,
Ooh Arnold, Disney, mafia, 2-step,
make us, make us be something else for a while,
or nothing else for a while.
A series of stunning self destructions.
Point A where we slit our throats,
point B where the paper shredder churns us up, and C
the slash, the cuffs, the gun, all evil bloodied and done
like a dark, like a lullaby.
To sleep, the blood urge to the drum, the dance,
the hypnoid figures made alive in the fire of crowding torches
wavering the stink of the kill.
The spirit and the spirit pictures
come, when there was something there to lick it all up,
something to pray to, to fear, to appease.
It was sunny, unbearable, after five days of rain
I couldn't stand it, the riot.
Good morning so beautiful, I went to the movies,
my collusion, consolation.
20 minutes early before the first bad preview
rated G for its violence and complete lack of sex.
Rated G for us, the general audience, me and two kids,
and a desolate looking man.
We went in, we waited for the flashes and burns
of the next great escape from the tyrannous day
called thinking and feeling in the locked off fifth of cinema
five.
The three black blocks on the dark red walls,
a plastic fear of duty to give up the burden a while.
To be pinned on, perceiver, god of the kingdom.