[The Neo-Futurists appear on stage eerily lit by footlights, in a sort of "zombie domestic tableau." One reads a newspaper, one is embroidering, one sits on the floor reading a book etc. Their bodies remain stiff and unmoving even when speaking. Those cast members who are not speaking provide a sotto voce, ticking-and-chattering rhythm over which the poem is spoken.]
Dave: With the eyes of mice
And the teeth of trees
In the city of dreams
And the age of diseaseDavid K: We move through a chaos of butter and lies
We survive in the silence of turtles and flies
Greg A: And when we awake from our days under glass
We sleep without dreams in a field of dead grassLusia: I'm waiting for light on a horrible night
And some shade on a horrible day
I'm waiting for truth in a 12-oz. glass
And a dream that will drive me awayDave: I wanted to tell you a vision I had
The sky was on fire and the angels were mad
But I was imprisoned in a cardboard box
Serving muffins and coffee to grandfather clocksLusia: I wanted to tell you a dream I forgot
But my tongue was tied up in a gordian knot
There were serpents with wings on a high green hill
And a music that gave me a terrible thrillDave: But the time for truth is nearly dead
And my tongue is sewn into my fabric head
So we live in the silence of turtles and clams
Where the last frame sticks and the voicebox jamsGreg A: And nobody knows where the lost things went
David K: Or how many hours the faithful have spent
Lusia: waiting for a love that will penetrate my bones
Dave: Like the voices of ravens, the spirits of stones
David K: At the end of the movie
He turns to his friend
Says I wanted to tell
you how things like this endGreg A: In the city of dust
Dave: And the age of disease
David K: We think in our sleep
And we sleep on our feet and our knees.CURTAIN
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