bARb

Techno-Impressionism or 17th-century motets—
where O where is
Barbra, O Châteaux,
Streisand?
Barbra
Streisand
is all over the place, even though she is no where.
While other actors & actresses are kicking out the
jams, I am wondering why others are not embracing
anarchy in this great mysterious
Streisand
cutting-edge ponderment. Imagine seeing
Barbra's
youthful face while one day eating a peanut butter
& jelly sandwich. Neil Diamonds in the gut.

(My father once said that
he would only prepare
one sandwich for me in my
entire lifetime & that afterwards
I must prepare my own.
Everytime that I prepare
my own sandwich, I think of him
while thinking of how
my grandfather, to this day,
still asks me if I would like a sandwich—
he leaves it sitting in the refridgerator
for me, wrapped in a newly-fresh
plastic sandwich bag.)

Imagine time-lapse imagery of a middle-aged
B.S.
while she writes saucy letters to you & later
gives you a stunning topaz to swoon upon.
Imagine seeing
Barbra Streisand's
face on your neighbor's flower pot or perhaps
her face in your window at night, & then lightning
flashes in the background creating a halo around
her head, in which she "mouths" the following words:

"Hunger is a monster,
disregarding every law, it can make
a cannibal out of the flower
of our highest civilization,
& neither Jay nor Crow
nor human creature is to be
punished for what they are driven to
by starvation."*

Somehow you are able to decipher
what she has said. You had been
starving, had been reading a book
about birds, had been thinking about
how uncertainties are more raw
than a wind-worn ground-growth
or pinkish-winded mouth, as dry
as stale biscuits.

____________________________________________________________________

* from What Birds Have Done With Me by Victor Kutchin.