at the moonlight splayed, shot on the dirt floor, silver and soft. we were shooting the les murray biopic & it was all going cheaply to plan (for cannes) plenty of slow pans and montages – a bit short on action scenes and I, like a lost hitchhiker, watching all my lovers proving to be props in some macabre film, in black and white. A sliver of light in the loft, three drops, hatching noir thought-bubbles above John Howard’s latex scalp he daydreams of ship building, of being a people smuggler or something else, nothing to do with people, their syntax and derision: a matter of semantics and position position position. the fleshy innocent wolf morphed into mist all the cue cards lost in a tumble wrapped in the travellers towel, the make-up artist’s breasts pressed against his head and he ordered three ships sailing by but cardboard was cheaper to come by a trickle of red stained its beauty where the beast lay dead still there were those who believed that once more it could raise its ugly head from its place in the dirt ; shot & bleeding it lay still , one paw ambling through its guts (now on the outside) ; the redness lost in the B&W concocktion (thankfully) ; fade to white; cut; print. Why does the devil wear his trousers inside out? we ask.
31.1: POST-EPIC
Released 1 December 2009 - 1 August 2010Index of Poems
Editor/ Producer: David Prater
Each of the poems in this issue starts with a line from a poem in EPIC. All lines are in fact comments that were added by readers. Scroll down each page to find out who wrote what! Or read the post-epic post-mortem.
we were shooting the les murray biopic & it was all going cheaply to plan (for cannes)
plenty of slow pans and montages – a bit short on action scenes
and I, like a lost hitchhiker, watching
macabre film, in black and white. A sliver of light in the loft, three drops, hatching
all my lovers proving to be props in some
noir thought-bubbles above John Howard's latex scalp
he daydreams of ship building, of being a people smuggler
or something else, nothing to do with people, their syntax and derision:
a matter of semantics and position position position.
the fleshy innocent wolf morphed into mist
all the cue cards lost in a tumble
wrapped in the travellers towel, the amke-up artist's breats pressed against his head
and he ordered three ships sailing by but cardboard was cheaper to come by
a trickle of red stained its beauty where the beast lay dead
still there were those who believed that once more it could raise its ugly head
from its place in the dirt ; shot & bleeding it lay still , one paw ambling through its guts
(now on the outside) ; the redness lost in the B&W concocktion (thankfully) ;
fade to white; cut; print.
Why does the devil wear his trousers inside out? we ask.