A young woman balances <br /><i>en pointe</i> on one foot <br />atop a man’s head. <br />Then gracefully, she <br />turns a full circle. <br /> <br />A little later, a torch, lighted at both ends, <br />flies onto the stage from the wing, <br />A man catches it <br />and proceeds to make <br /><i>flame</i> his tango partner. <br /> <br />A keystone cop fire brigade comes out. <br />They use their hoses as long jump ropes <br />before getting completely tangled up in them. <br /> <br />Meanwhile, an S & M policewoman <br />at the front of the stage <br />rotates a girl’s jump-rope <br />‘round her body faster <br />than my amazed eye can follow. <br /> <br />Whole groups dive through hoops, <br />toss silver pins at rapid fire. <br />By the finale, <br />the quickest way <br />between two points <br />is not walking, <br />but a full-body flip. <br /> <br />We in the audience see a world <br />whose laws seem not to be our laws. <br />Such miracles do surgery to our eyes, <br />removing cobwebs of unconscious life. <br /> <br />We see a Dali world, full-blown upon the stage— <br />never the years of arduous labor <br />that brought that world to birth.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/circus-visions/
