The Triumph of Death by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
I speak now to the audience in your head
not the voice that reads this line
(nor the voice that speaks alongside it)
but instead to the part of you
that observes the voice,
(hush now)
watch the unfolding theater:
here is an excursion of the artist into war
from the safety of the mind’s constructs
(you will not have to take a stance)
so you, the observer,
have assurances
double indemnity
Pina choreographs the performers
writhing masterfully among the corpses
wrap flesh around their toes
to raise on point
(incongruous)
upon a beach invaded
by the long dead
(whale song)
marching to the sacred shrine
(come away)
the listening shores rebound
hand-held spotlight illuminates
an iron triangle against the
politics of a graffiti sky
jagged edges slice the dancers
(to operatic pleas)
she stands alone
undulating arms
(come away)
frenetic, kinetic shapes
haunt in liminal space
(collapsing)
consume your ideas,
bury your children
confront the psychology of obstacles
strewn across a room within a world,
a café, a memory, a drama
(inextricable motion)
painting your psyche,
(behind the fourth wall)
bid the virtues,
bid the graces
(come)
daughters of art
cry your overflowing river of dust
a rite of spring granting muddied feet
to reclaim the earth of this stage
incursions into our perspectives
wormholes to exquisite pain
(as I write to you)
of this excursion
of the artist
into war
we close the door (castaways)
seaweed tossed by the storm
mimicking the dance
emotive intensity whirls
in the roar
violent intent permeates Nature,
from whom we learn not
seeing with closed eyes
you hear my voice, your voice,
the observer draws horrific pictures
for your inner sight
you travel, exploring this interior
view of war
at a remove that fans out
like a house of mirrors
dancers mime
(terror)
(exhaustion)
(bloodlust)
death
Pina Bausch 1940-2009
Chromapoetica 
I was intrigued by your splendid poem. It was very well choreogrphed–it was a dance to me it seemed–and the steps were lively. I liked your asides to the audience, or I should say directions. All in all it suited my tastes for such things. Also, I thought your imagery and phrasings were great.>KB
You hear my voice, your voice,
the observer draws horrific pictures
for your inner sight
you travel, exploring this interior
view of war
Yes, however one views it, war is destructive. On a current note, Assad should be brought to book. But not through collective punishment on an already suffering population. Nicely Anna!
Hank
dang….really well constructed….the line on the shore, the whale song, love those…how you extend that into the castaways mimicking the dance…exploring the interior view of a war was quite emotive as well…
brilliantly rendered. allowing the reader to both observe and participate… that no small challenge. Really, isn’t that what art is? I enjoyed this immensely, Anna. I also enjoyed Wim Wenders’ view, gift for Pina in his recent film… Could watch it repeatedly wearing my skin in shivers the whole time; your poem is as effective… and how you did it with a single medium amazes!
Anna, I find this quite chilling, but good!
oh heck…chilling indeed but well done anna… totentanz and tanztheater – both german words… there used to be a disco when i was young that was called totentanz…
From Picasso to Pina, you drag us willingly through the horror & inevitability of America’s next conflict during our new Millennium Crusade, prophesied to be 100 years of strife, followed by 100 years of peace, remapping the globe & the human heart. You hit the marks, massage the bullseye, kick the ass of absurdity, like Brian Turner in HERE, BULLET, send in the poets to do the heavy lifting–if you want to understand war & human nature, toss a poet into the chaos and wait for the truth to cascade out of corpses, out of leaden gray skies.
Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost…
A danse macabre of remarkable agility and litheness that you have conjured up for us here. I’ve seen Tanztheater Wuppertal performances at Sadler’s Wells and been fasinated by the raw emotions on display.
Anna, writing poetry from this perspective made me think about P.J Harvey’s record “Let England shake”.. and chilling dance through the wars… I saw her perform it live in a church, and it was probably one of the best concerts I ever saw… chilling and beautiful at the same time.
How very apropos, with the bloodlust of war hovering only death will triumph ! Your imagery like psychological confetti, fantastic and haunting !!!
wow. this is just fabulous, from the first line all the way through til the end. this is like a voice that i hear inside my head, rhythmic, pulsing, telling truths i may wish to ignore but cannot.
i have a new favorite of yours. 🙂
Many of the words I would have used have been said – the danse macabre, the theater of death, the insanity removed yet close enough, yet real enough – life is not that far removed, war lust rising in all humans, the costs incalculable. Art holds the horror– as Glenn said all the horror in Shakespeare, Goya, Picasso’s Guernica; it rises in your consciousness and informs the poem. Excellent work, Anna.
Love the Pina reference, Anna. Watched the film over the summer with my great aunt-in-law, who is a dancer and knew Pina. What a fabulous artist. And what an amazing poem — kept me gripped from the beginning to end.
This is powerful and great,Anna.
Wow, now this would be incredible to hear you read aloud. It feels to me that an attentive hush would settle over the room from that first stanza…it did me, when I read it. Masterfully crafted work Anna.
LOVE!!! because it is so crisp and clear and painted.
because it is already inside my head, my favourite subject.
because of this:
an iron triangle against the
politics of a graffiti sky
jagged edges slice the dancers
and what it means.
because of these scenes.
the min screens curving tight reflections
of struggle in the muddy trench of it.
because of Pina and the theatre,
the title and the art –
I ❤ it.
Great intro! draws you in and sets a great mood. So much happening then ending in death. Moving poetry.
I see Pina, but I am also waylaid by the image of writhing of the beach– writhing –so un-dance it is both butoh and a level of hell. In undergrad days of existential authenticity and Vietnam, I hung copies of this Breugel and a Bosch in my dorm room to contemplate. I didn’t know about Butoh then or Robert Wilson’s Civil Wars and the Knee Plays. Ironic that the more I understood, the more I turned away. And now there is Syria …. Powerful writing.
Powerful writing, Anna, which draws the reader in and makes reading a truly participatory act; I couldn’t read this and not become an actor in the scene being described.
They /\ said it all I fear, but this chilled me and drew me in deeper and deeper. Well done!
Hey Anna, The opening i thought was especially strong – so hard to separate the different voices in one’s head and to seek out the observer is a neat trick — I think artists have a very checkered history with respect to war – though of course I tend to be on their side! It is all difficult –I am an intense pacifist, but I think there is sometimes a kind of disdain for non-artists or the non-sophisticiated and that this has a very negative effect upon political dialogue, greatly weakening the power of the artist’s voice. It’s all so complex and I appreciate your grappling with it so earnestly and articulately. k.