The Entrance Pageant

I forgot to add the forthcoming (Tarpaulin Sky Press, in early 2011 I believe) book The Entrance Pageant to the list of my books (in the post below).

You can find some excerpts in the last issue of jubilat. Also in recent issues of Columbia Poetry Journal, Saltgrass and Tammy.


Here's my note on the title of the book:

The title is meant to create an equivalence between the word “pageant” and the word “wound,” because not only is this a text about the wound, the performance is also shaped like an entrance wound (there is no exit). I used to call the piece Wound Piece or Entrance to a pageant in which we begin to intricate. As the word “intricate” indicates, it is a performance about going in, not going out. And when you enter a pageant like this one, language itself begins to intricate. Try pronouncing the word “intricate” as a verb, preferably in the dark, with taste of sugar on your lips.



Here's the note on the production:

The main scene should be full of ornaments and crime. The words attributed to the characters do not necessarily have to be spoken; they can be acted out, or played on an archaic tape-player.

The second stage is an abandoned factory in downtown South Bend, IN, where during the entire performance my daughter Sinead dances while changing in and out of various costumes: the Hare Mask, the Cartoon Face, the Red Robe of History, the Reversible Body. She is only once actually seen by the audience, on a video screen streaming live from her dance. Mostly she is hidden because she represents that which is hidden.

The third stage is a mall, where the Natives stand still, watching, interviewing and photographing the Customers. Sometimes I feel a certain tenderness towards the Natives. Other times I want to stab them in their plug-ugly faces.