Improv 1, Week 13

My first riff for this week comes from Melanie's piece, "Parenthetical"

(a white curtain in the dark waves
from a window across the street
and I can't hear anything other than
what I imagine is the sound
of that tiny sail flapping like a useless
handkerchief and you are smiling
like you've spoken, but I'm watching
a woman's shadow overhwelm the red
interior of her second story while
the white curtain like a minidress
obscures her waist, ruffles her thight.
She changes, undresses without pause
the way you pulled the parking break
before we came inside the club,
the way I undressed for you
our first night in your attic room.
It's so loud here it's silent, our table
subsumed by dancers, swelling, splitting
mitosis. Smoke hurts my chest, I can't
hear you anymore, I'm blind
against the curatin swelling the window,
the world, reflecting the streetlamp,
how I came here with nothing to cover
me, how I leve with nothing to uncover.)

What I wanted to channel from this piece, through my improve is the gentle flow associated with the fluditiy of fabric flowing in the breeze. This is embodied in concrete imagery such as, "curtain, waves, sail, handkerchief, minidress, ruffles, etc.) However, I wanted to embody this by pushing in a somewhat opposite direction. My pieces takes on a more masculine persona with words such as "pavement, vein, weight lifting, building hurricans, etc." But I wanted that same fluidity to be present even though the tone of my improve represents a more masculine, power-inflated atmosphere.


Semi;Colon
(a blue vein in the green curves
from the pavement across the campus
and I can’t touch anything other than
what I smell is the taste
of that tractor-trailer sized edifice collapsing like a wrecking
ball and you are whimpering
like you’ve been unleashed, but I’m studying
a man’s biceps undertaking the white
interior of her red Volvo while the
blue vein like a pulse
pumps up his volume, increases his erection.
He changes, lifts weights endlessly
the way you pushed the ticket gate
as we infiltrated the carnival,
the way I lifted you
our third anniversary in your hay scented loft.
It’s so quiet here it’s a cacophony, our shoes
Submerged in dust-mites, swirling, building
hurricanes. Clouds burn my taste buds, I can’t
touch you anymore, I’m deaf
against the vein swirling the pavement,
the church, bathing the street-rat,
how I became here with a wrecking ball to destroy
you, how I leave with myself crumbled.)