The Surgeons Orange Vision

Sable, a Manly (calld William) Leave, a Lady (calld Wilma) Posthumus, a Mother and Clown (a Simultaneous Witch and Undertaker) Minor-Surgeon, a Mainly Under-Hangman, Lamely Cable-Player, an Under-Cable Posthumus-Player, an Under-Posthumus Roman-Player, an Under-Roman Sable-Player, an Under-Sable Leave-Player, an Under-Leave

A kind of geometry is his last supportation. Webster And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day. Genesis

He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forged himself a name o th fire Of burning Rome. Coriolanus

Act One, Scene One A Sylvan Orange Appears Sable, Leave Two Seats, a Wand, a Skull, a Seven Dollar Bill A Top Hat on a Table Two Somewhat Humans, Outwardly Hermaphroditical Both Sitting Sable Stands SABLE: The orange woods churn surgically with biblical thoughts in spurious furls of orange leaves, like Adam, like Abel, a sequence of savagery in orange and surgeons and flowers devour the woods in their coincidence, that geometrical geography the mathematics I do is 400 years old. Leave Stands LEAVE: Ive never really lost someone I was close to Ive never really lost one Im supposed to I keep confusing brothers with mothers, Abel with Adam. Leave Sits SABLE: Pay attention. LEAVE: They deny it, they die it. Leave Sits SABLE: Pay; the geometry of tree the instrument of plants: the surgeon is approaching.

LEAVE: A week filled with sequins. (Pause) God being branches, this is fortuitous. Sable Picks Up the Skull, Looks At It SABLE: Indeed. LEAVE: I smudge my Montaigne with my chocolate, I live on a diet of dreams SABLE: The cranks of leaves enact in wind a bible in furls of weather a tautology of trees. Balks orange in its bunch, the Wait The sequins so sedate The trees and grass with mutual elation Sable Puts the Skull Down LEAVE: We stand, each other unintelligent, though not inelegant SABLE: Pay! Leave Polishes the Skull with the Seven Dollar Bill LEAVE: Marl tissue. SABLE: A usury and usurpation in the woods operates; lets get our act together which ever way you fit, you are repulsive. LEAVE: The sexes mutually perplex, dont you think? SABLE: Not often. LEAVE: But, dont you think? SABLE: They do. LEAVE: I think, I do, that. (Pause) Sable Picks Up the Wand, Considers it SABLE: Those bandages of plants the wind 3

juggling landscape The geometric whores Wait Ive lost the acts Sable Pokes the Skull With His Wand in the Eye Who flaws the woods with paths and understandings of our paths cannot commit the ceremonies absently in evening While sparks rinse the winter blackened with evenings (Pause) Wilma, listen. The problem now is not regaining Eden the externals of a perfect happiness are a possible accomplishment, or close enough to it the problem is, with the knowledge of unhappiness, we have the knowledge of complacency. Leave Picks Up the Skull Excitedly LEAVE: Ill fuck anything thats loose, Ill fuck any one but you. SABLE: The happiness is poisoned in this particular. The possibility of unhappiness makes happiness impossible. See, Wilma? Thats the unmendable lapse, Leave Puts Down the Skull Decidedly the unrepealable poison? See? Cain killed Abel out of a knowledge of unhappiness. He compulsively lacked complacency. This only outside Eden A Sylvan Cerulean Appears Look, look! The blue woods burn liturgically The woods blacken with blue tools. Maternal incantations suffer distance through blue woods, and drift in their dissemination Always the woods with geometric colorations, turnings, turnings, red, blue, yellow, black, tropical orange of air Maternal circumstances saturate the paths, and darken branches. 4

LEAVE: Perhaps days are happening? SABLE: Unlikely. At this late hour? Ive lost the acts. Again. LEAVE: The surgeon. SABLE: Right, right. They Both Sit Down LEAVE: They begin and we end it doesnt that seem strange to you, William? Adam, Eve, Abel, Leave, whoever can SABLE: Vernal questions and maternal answers occupy the afternoon, as we both occupy its vestibule, separate from conversation, encased in our considerations of colors, marked Abels and magic, witches marks Sable Wands the Skull See, Wilma? He cant be happy because he knows therere other ways of going about it. (Pause) A Sylvan Sable More Unhuman Than Our Man Appears They Both Stand Up Look, see! The black wood learn maternally I spider mouth these painted things and see in them the wraith of Abel, that knowledge LEAVE: Not with a bang but a simmer SABLE: Im getting back on acts. LEAVE: Are our names not proper names? SABLE: No, never. 5

A Sylvan Sallow Appears Sable, Leave They Both Sit Down Hermaphroditical Consistently A sallow morning here. Perhaps. LEAVE: Adaming and Evening. Sable Wands the Skull SABLE: My face is less of woods than yesterday it was of woods Maternal concerns saturate the landscape We had mothers once. LEAVE: The choral tissue ensues Leave Balls up the Dollar Bill, and Sticks it in the Skull Eye SABLE: Can he be trusted? LEAVE: The surgeon? SABLE: He cant. LEAVE: Impossible in orange. SABLE: Maybe we should end this in a rape? LEAVE: No. SABLE: Ok. No means no. Leave Takes the Bill-eye Out Flattens It With Her Tongue

She Polishes the Skull (Pause) The bibles no geometry The infinite savagery in the forest, smudges of violence left on moss the crime in plants green crimes end in our consumption. I am an able thing. I dont know Leave Looks at the Skull LEAVE: Are we still in love? SABLE: I assume so. Leave Puts the Skull Down LEAVE: Us soft, curled, hermaphroditical figures, we use farm implements and witches tools. Orange Recurs They Both Stand Up SABLE: Its back, its back! it must be day But wait It means its own webbed issue. LEAVE: I am only orange tissue for you, of salmon dispensation. SABLE: Perhaps the fluctuations in the color represent disease It has in it a sylvan candor. Leave Sits Down LEAVE: That is our constant lease. SABLE: The variety of woods astounds. Go find my mother, I have legs that need some breaking on her face. LEAVE: Not yet.

SABLE: But, wait Sable Picks Up the Skull and Eyes It (Pause) Imagine: the animals like yarn around her ankles; she cauterized their heads by covenant; Eve worked; she burst in birth; the pain in covenant promise of the pain is the whole contract for Eve But imagine her released into some pastoral luxury, devoid of domestic imperfection, the codling of viscera in a meal available with the ease of a finger, the achievable externals of the Eden-thing only a good, modern marriage devoid of ring she is still haunted by anomaly, by snake faces, the slight imperfection in that green blanket of her choice, the mildew in the grass, the flaw in the embossing, only a tragedy allowable to things. Sable Drops the Skull in Leaves Crotch LEAVE: You might as well have broke a river in your foot. Leave Flaps the Wand Around SABLE: Ill need my brother. Broken in or off. LEAVE: Your brothers dead. Or perhaps separated from yourself at birth. SABLE: As a matter of math, it is likely he is dead LEAVE: As a matter of faith, it is likely. SABLE: Ill need my mother broken. A lot. LEAVE: Not yet. 8

(Pause) Sable Picks the Skull From Leaves Lap SABLE: There is a natural surgery, consistent as the plant in fluctuation and their hue the bear and its salmon degradations in corpse-crowded water in aggressive weather. LEAVE: Lets get back on facts. SABLE: The mechanistic plants in their ant consumption, aware with sensational hair mathematically aggressive. LEAVE: I think we lost them, facts. SABLE: The gory splendor of a foxglove bending violent in that purple a consumptive geography, a biblical georgics. LEAVE: Lets get back our acts. SABLE: A smelling birth occurs in paling blood that bleaches out the mother; pops her in the middle of her. There is surgery consistently. The surgeons is an action of two engines: the one turns on, the other off again. We begin off. Sable Rubs the Skull in Leaves Face Leave Is Repulsed Sable Drops it in Leaves Lap (Pause) Get me my murder plants. LEAVE: Not yet. 9

SABLE: Get me my shitting hat. Leave Picks Up the Hat, Looks At It LEAVE: Not fit. SABLE: I need to shit. LEAVE: Not slight. SABLE: I need. LEAVE: Not fight. SABLE: Bring me your dress to dress you with. LEAVE: No light. SABLE: We used to dress so nicely. Leave Puts the Hat on the Skull (Pause) A Sylvan, Though Magenta and Magnetic, Atmosphere Appears Leave Stands Up The colors, the colors, the colors, the colors! so garden-like in their display Its that possible and known unhappiness I cant make it over. (Pause) Perhaps the extinction of the knowledge of unhappiness, of the snake-traits in the earths superficies, is somewhat equivalent with happiness. This somewhat is the thing The snake in branches mentions the situations colored dimensions. LEAVE: Is this the sunset of the surgeon? SABLE: It contains in it that possible.

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LEAVE: A surgeon or chirurgeon can equivalently attend Both Sit Down SABLE: It was all a matter of promiscuity. The lapse was a sexual crime. The snake brought knowledge of other men reptilian in the deformations of their flesh. Because the interruption is possible, the interruption is necessary. The dead bird is because of the bird. Eve was disgusted by compliance. LEAVE: Compliance or complacency, I know neither exactly neither which Leave Puts Down the Hat-held Skull SABLE: She hated covenant. And hated especially the covenant life represents, that original promise the covenant of converting into Wait the ochreous grass woods moldering with snakes LEAVE: A surgeon can be equivalent with sand Sable Polishes the Hat with the Dollar SABLE: They say a witch contains between her legs a mark. A type of occult nipple for her familiar to feed off and empower her: It was all a matter of promiscuity. Cains mark was on his biblical cock a bookish pockmark probably a syphilitic sylvan luxury of wait an inch below or warlock in the desert oldest sand in a chapped, dried hand (Pause) What label or what mark, of witches or of field, divides us when our clothes are palely peeled? Theres been an accident. LEAVE: That happened long ago. Sable Picks up the Skull, Takes off its Hat SABLE: Were you ever as pretty as this? LEAVE: Long ago. SABLE: Get me my seven dollar bill.

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LEAVE: No dice. SABLE: Get me my necromancy hat. LEAVE: Our lice. SABLE: Get me my ancient staff. LEAVE: O, our poor ice Leave Balls Up the Dollar Bill Puts It in the Skull Eye Puts the Hat the Skull Places the Wand in the Skull Teeth Its time to get your mother well need her for the surgeon. SABLE: Theres saffron coming. LEAVE: Yes, I know.

They Leave

Act One, Scene Two A Moldering Glen A Necromantic Stream, His Mothers Home A Femur in the Grass A Plate in Grass A Shovel and a Coxcomb 12

Enter Sable, Leave Picking It Up, Sable Playing with the Bone SABLE: The bones abide here still (Pause) Admiring the Femur The pure fact and phenomena of having flesh and life disturbs me Sable Wands the Bone With things of clowns and witches things deposited in this maternal geographic, with the earthy math of geometry and surgery, agents of grass, its horrifying transformations, dirts transubstantiation of her undertaking, what do we undertake in this cartography? Sable Drops the Bone Sable Pulls the Coxcomb Over his Foot Sable Stretches It The primordial, apocalyptic mist reckons to us the mornings gist Nervosities declare themselves in these oak distances; I knit myself dependant. Forbearance and captivity consume us in this forest, stippled with variety. O, our morbid melismas, our iterations, they extend in these pastoral diminutions. The sylvan surgeon walking with sound in the cold day in the cool woods Sable Drops the Coxcomb 13

Sable Picks Up the Shovel Sable Wiggles the Shovel in the Air Hers is this neither happy nor unhappiness, but only happening with recompense as mathematical as Venus leaves, that geometric eating. Hence bones. Sable Drops the Shovel Sable Considers in His Hand the Plate Sensation without knowledge of sensation, hunger without knowledge of that hunger in grass without knowing grass, my mother is reduced to this, I think an eyelash on a fingernail, a thoughtless delicate. The day, thats so inclined to diminution, operates still now, still its shrieking engine. Mothers in her cave again. I should have brought our skull. LEAVE: I hear it in my bones, the drilling. SABLE: Our hockets, they perpetuate LEAVE: Lets go, and get your mother. They Leave

Act One, Scene Three The Mothers Cave, The Mothers Place of Work The Mothers Name is Posthumus 14

Enter Sable, Leave Outside the Cave, Beside the Sea A Cup in Grass, A Bowl of Percoset A Mound of Parts of Humans Purely Bones Bones with Plants Upon Them Sable Picks up the Cup, and Looks Around LEAVE: You have sick parts in your bones, that are crackling like fire. SABLE: The yellow evening lamination on the water which the birds disrupt with their black bits of loss of light, the post with ribbons floating on it in the air, the cormorants slow scoring, chugging, lunging twitter, the solitary sign telling the depth for boats, the spider wet inside the cup, like a small squid I see only in threes today: there is a purple ignorance in the earth, the ocean, and the motley heaven, this tripleted geography so like the triple engine of the man, the woman, and the skeleton digressive as some precipice, purple below LEAVE: I can smell a broken bone in your ear. SABLE: By this maternal cave, she cures the criminal vestigials, and necromantic vestiges: she buries men; she buries women, women. Her corn grows from their foggy flesh, and plants combine in green around the cinders those bones represent with fireous calcium. The foggy flame of flaming hair gauzes my breath with necrotic, grotic air. My bones shift awkwardly like shafts of ice in mud; screams echo awkwardly as laughs in this geography; my shattering beneath my calf

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LEAVE: Its what bones do, they flake from your head. SABLE: The phenomenon of disconnection the dislocation of a person the gap began in their consumption. Sable Points to the Cave I hate that roof thats put above that floor: my feet would be cold, it cannot shine. Enter Mother by Her Exit from the Cave LEAVE: Oranging and Appeling. POSTHUMUS: Do you make an appeal in this cave of cerulean teal and ruby cochineal, with the impunity of love, because of your biologic seal, the button above the rest where the man in yous congealed? SABLE: Coincidence of burial and reckoning of spells encourages your staying here, I understand The surgeon will perform a census and a reckoning we need you for. Hell talk ancient. You can voice to him sylvan complaint, or else your necromancy and consent. The authoritative spirit of the crime, the genius of the bones, condemns us with this count. He isnt quite a ghost. POSTHUMUS: Where is your brother? SABLE: You necessarily must know. POSTHUMUS: We should talk like the spider who, as a silk-leaking rider, is his own silver writer of his actions 16

he speaks in the quick motions of his translucent shins. Then She Moves, Crab-like in Her Circumference LEAVE: We should talk. SABLE: The census of the surgeon, medicinal numerics, can cure with its geometry arrangements: the guild atoms of the bees move less yellow mathematically, metallic atoms in the sun, than the surgeons reckoning engine. LEAVE: Our plot is but a transmigration SABLE: We have to go and wait in motley woods, our clowning forestry I told the surgeon we would. POSTHUMUS: If only we could migrate at the tranquil rate our bone-bothered bodies desiccate, I might be able to relate to you the weird fire-motions I used to sorely create you do not resuscitate or attempt some tranquil rescue I make me with my sins. The sun can no further dilate. Posthumus Reaches to Swallow, Crab-like, Too Many Percoset Sable Stops Posthumus SABLE: Your murmurers and hummers mutters, greasy with moss, are meaningless. Sable Takes One Pill into Sables Hand Sable Rubs a Pill Against Posthumus Teeth 17

POSTHUMUS: The grotic gore of my chores forces a cry: a baby bird cawing like a creaking door the bones salt-dry with geometrically descending ants gnawing. We can deal, we can make a deal, we can make a big deal I see orange. SABLE: Our anemic copulations are the practice and a training for our deaths Suns heat on my cheek, outside and inside heat, we are in the climate inclined to delete. Mom, Im stronger than you. Were going to my home. POSTHUMUS: We can go, if you insist, in the evenings motley flow, of which we merely consist. SABLE: We must reckon with our crimes, and reckon with our genealogy. What if our familys shrunk to a finitude of one? Americas fourth century is coming. LEAVE: O the taste of the comminuted They Leave

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Act One, Scene Four Back Home A Sylvan Orange Appears Sable, Leave, and Posthumus Two Seats A Wand, a Skull, a Seven Dollar Bill, a Top Hat on a Table: Together as Leave Made Them in their Theme Enter All SABLE: The wood retains its orange inclination, I think always of the men that men are made from, killed or being killed think of their pink gums, that softness in consumption. Sable Begins to Undo the Skull as Leave Configured It LEAVE: One microscopically anemic I regret. SABLE: Every line environed in another in the Jesuitical and rotting cloth of my consideration These woods, they swarm with their chromatics! The hive, atomically divisible and yellow LEAVE: Potomacally invisible with purple arrogance Sable Continues

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SABLE: Loamy embers of virtue The baffled baffling our actions constitute Valence and equality LEAVE: Mom, Im stronger, Mom, Im stranger than you are. POSTHUMUS: Im not your mother. LEAVE: Its a legality only. (Pause) My italic agenda, my surgeons burgundy, grounds with backs in them Sable Continues SABLE: Muted devastation of a moderate addiction, paralysis and Darvocet I had corpse-flesh on my calf the blood was sluggish, died. LEAVE: A major surgerys for a major surgeon ours is only minor. SABLE: The gloss of story, the glass of our plot contains in it our vitrine acts I cant arrange. What a defunct array we are. POSTHUMUS: Listen! Posthumus Does Her Routine She Noses a Red Nose A Mother Juggling and Singing: Protect the cake from sugar, protect the sea from salt, then you keep movement from a tiger, and keep us from our motley fault. Sable finishes SABLE: I wrapped in mummy configurations, for the break, my foot. 20

The staples bound my foot, like an immobile catalogue. I didnt walk. Was the geometry of cartilage in me different, devoid of hope? LEAVE: Murder transmits disease. Sable places down the skull Sable sits SABLE: God caked the garden with some trees once; we live in those woods. Our lumber is a labyrinth: the live oaks and the pecans with resurrection ferns in bark-flushed joints; the concentration of green life against green life; the ubiquitous water; the green stones with moss, or brown-green stones with algae in fresh water, the trout collating in the geological ribbing under stream, the talea of stones, and their fish melody. The woods are fuzzed and flush with moss and fish: green and silver bobbing, floating, chugging. (Pause) Once, the flower with the green ruffle with a purple pin between, I put into the button of my shirt, and held it there. The sun made in my cheeks a windy and a lasting red of flushing and a slight, delightful burn that day was good as days go in the sun; that past afternoon, the pleasures of it. Once. Leave Sits Posthumus Quits Juggling POSTHUMUS: What afternoon was that? SABLE: Some afternoon once: I sat and sun and light and wind moved over marsh, and the solitary sign vacillated with light, and birds darkened or were whited by the glister 21

on the water. Leave Stands LEAVE: Get some sun in the short places. POSTHUMUS: I remember that afternoon. SABLE: Unlikely. You are unlikely. Leave Picks up the Skull LEAVE: Get some fun in the poor faces, maybe Sable Stands Sable, with the Wand, Observes the Air The Wand in It SABLE: Can the climate affect the crime? Eve not in the garden, Physcon not in Egypt, are they innocent? But imagine: in some Memphian dock, or Theban quay, imagine our first mother with a blank stomach beside Sicilian imports, stumbling in the dry; the process and the mouths of the dock chugging both inscrutable to her. How can she transgress by foreign cotton? (Pause) Sable Palms the Skull Sable Un-palms the Skull Imagine: Physcon with his brutality in the garden, baffled by the arboreal abundance, and unsure in the bundled, merely plant. Can murder happen in a garden? That hand that kills the child at the wedding, must be content with just an apricot in finger 22

in that scrutable, still garden weather. And what is our climate partial to? The Woods Blow Blue LEAVE: It changes! SABLE: I dont care now; I like about the notion of a vision that in the image is the accuracy. Ill give the answers that ask questions. We are motivated and exacerbated by these woods Sable Looks toward the Skull Sable Drops the Wand There is no guilt without a person; I am collected in my guilt. LEAVE: If your foot does not creak, it rivers, it rives us SABLE: Listen! (Pause) See, Wilma? There is necessarily the connection between the dying and the sexual : because of the sexual crime of the lapse, some death is introduced. And then we move into the revelation of the phenomenal metaphysical after death, that season without guessing that stands in option to unhappiness. (Pause) Posthumus Juggles Some Beginning Wilma, thats what I think. (Pause) Posthumus Juggles Some Ending What we need is effort, to derange that happiness, 23

involving death. To render, to account, in an event, our lives seems the option and the task, and only to the wind like wind can we ask, with no return. Sable Sits Posthumus Unjuggles POSTHUMUS: Fairies made my face with wands, and made my brains with wands LEAVE: In such strange fangling, dressing medicinally POSTHUMUS: I made you with hands, and quandaries LEAVE: The kindling, the kindly, thats a holocaust I can get behind POSTHUMUS: Witches burn like the disease; LEAVE: Its all a little too botanical POSTHUMUS: she in fire turns, and you in bed with ease. LEAVE: With desire and ease. Closure in the ceremony and the plants Posthumus Juggles Some Beginning POSTHUMUS: My age crystally defends me from my lit death, in that it can lensingly contend forward with lit breath with it and light I mend. Sable Stands Juggle Continue 24

LEAVE: The elderlys, the tenderlys a holocaust I can get behind POSTHUMUS: The air that I brightly observe can crystally absorb the rain the atmospheres engorged with the streams my entourage and myth. Sable Sits Juggle Continue SABLE: Gesualdo killed his wife real violently, mutilated her sexually, then had to get beaten to be happy LEAVE: The players are all children. SABLE: The concert of our machinations results in our melodic sin concerted welkin I and it falls in. Posthumus Juggles Some Ending

LEAVE: You are vague I am specific, vague, and waved. POSTHUMUS: The atmosphere, with snow, can send, I know, the letters that amend with the coldness that they lend, with motley mist, to my strange end, my slant gist Sable Stands Posthumus Unjuggles 25

LEAVE: The friendly, the tending, thats a holocaust SABLE: This haunting census seems an insurrection of the dead They will not leave us wholly here. LEAVE: You are an instrument of stupidity, and of the retardation of the American soul. Sable Lifts the Skull SABLE: The configurations of the leather of boots, the geometry of scent chameleonic vespers suffer distance over rock then stream then rock then sun; more. Annunciation slivers of the chameleonic sun cannot pierce these green arrangements of wood. Chameleonic vestiges (Pause) What are cures for colds? LEAVE: Honey and lemon and vinegar juice. POSTHUMUS: Bourbon juice and honey. LEAVE: Baking soda in some syrup. SABLE: We are automatically divisible to our most simple article Polygraphic staging This rancid fog renders us fatigate. LEAVE: Your broken, and baroque ankle SABLE: The surgeon has that negative function, and makes us in our hate of him into arrangings geometric like a magnet Woods Blow Teal

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LEAVE: It changes! SABLE: These woods, I think the colors are the covenant of god, contractual rainbow LEAVE: But what exactly has he promised us? SABLE: Exactly. (Pause) The person gathers in his guilt: I must be the man and the hot soul, the spiritual oxidation, which killed beside the blue stream with the black rock, as screams broadcast in plants the crime; and then began these colored modulations, or else I would not feel it in my permanence. I am completed in that bludgeoning. (Pause) Sable Palms the Skull Un-palms as if a Psalm The woods derange his bones like a rancid chemist In the budding ignorance of the blind fecund, I find my thinking in our dark and motley stippling. POSTHUMUS: These delicate puckered hands so baroque, arthritic, can also competently choke or be held like a wand, hermaphroditic My sweet son, love me.

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SABLE: Get me geometry. LEAVE: Not yet. Sable Places on the Skull the Hat SABLE: There is land; it is not heaven; its merely to the west. The Carthaginians, they say they had a type of transcendental Venezuela, and death is very similar: they are a mirror without flesh of us, and one day will return in insurrection when we fill them up. (Pause) Sable Displaces the Hat Sable Locates the Hat on his Head Sable Dislocates the Hat We are that new country in the rapture for the dead: strange conjunctions will occur between oaks, elms, and their dead brains, our live sight and their dead plants, when then we switch. LEAVE: Its been a week since I last saw you, but it feels like days. SABLE: I am no fanatic for ice and snow LEAVE: It feels just like it pays. SABLE: I need my throat. LEAVE: Not yet. SABLE: Need it to eat. LEAVE: Youll get what you get. 28

SABLE: I need breath. LEAVE: Youll get what you regret. (Pause) SABLE: The adult and shimmering chemist in patriotic knots (Pause) The Woods Blow Black Get me sleep. LEAVE: We can go to sleep. POSTHUMUS: Lets go to sleep. Lights Stop

Act Two, Scene One Home Still Black Home

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A Sylvan Orange Curs and Recurs, an Animal Does a Sylvan Orange Cure? Sable, Leave, and Posthumus All Asleep Their Instruments About: A Wand, a Skull, a Seven Dollar Bill, a Top Hat on a Table: Disconfigured Sable Wakes (Pause) SABLE: The late ink of the old sky distills into yellow clot the sun is on our morning such a guild clot. The sable into the light, the fabric into liquid, these transmigrations, they modulate the atmosphere with what result beside our hived confusion? Leave Wakes in Modulation We whales, entangled in these clots of nets, the wooden arrangements, modulate our frenzies; can breath in our captivity different than other fish, but our skin desiccates near to death: we are tender fuel for their designs, the higher. The covenant of the disease is all that keeps us and keeps us in line here in these surgical, scrutable trees. LEAVE: The leaves are the permission, the big permission. Posthumus Wakes in Leaves SABLE: The atmosphere still moist with the morning, 30

made acrid by the campings smoke, black and clear small particles of ash and lake atomized and in my throat blackly curdled wood, streams curdled into air the bacon acrid and greasy through all : Some ate near. The surgeon comes. LEAVE: I think we are embarrassed of our names. SABLE: I think we are. LEAVE: Nothing prepares us for our names. POSTHUMUS: Nothing. SABLE: We need to prepare. LEAVE: Ive served dark country. (Pause) SABLE: Listen! (Pause) The crudded meat, the dirt. Say, is it morning? Nude by medicinal eyes, we need to dress as wounds would dress: we need to hide the bones in transmigratious earth, and hide events inside a booked story; we need to dress at angles for his geometric sight. LEAVE: Think of specific things we need to die, that we need to hide. SABLE: His is a medicinal engine; in this morning smoke and contrite, can we un-comminute our kin? LEAVE: Where you go, Im done. (Pause) Sable Cogitates Congruent to the Skull 31

Then Uncongruent Surgeon Enters Idlely He Places a Stethoscope against the Skull Just like a Crab on Coral Sable Notices SABLE: What? I comminute: Say again, its morning? It is impossible for you to ever know who killed my brother, even on the chance we didnt lie, since our reports have nor realty to them true or false exactly what orange can you see? I killed the fuck. Forensic myth of knowledge of the crime Surgeon Smiles SURGEON: I see orange here; you are suspected in this census, where all crimes resurrected. Recite the math of your family; and we burn witches here are you honestly sincere? That is not quite a confession. We need the waterfalls interrogation. Smiles Often SABLE:I am Sable, older brother and equal husband to Leave; to Roman I am a younger brother and a different murderer; Cable and Posthumus, a father and a mother; the rest can be divined by me, who Posthumus and Leave are. Often SURGEON: How did your father die?

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SABLE: He died of the first natural disease: not being God. (Pause) Sable and the Skull Confer in Silence Symptomatic finitude of blue matrix with black vertex the en-earthed word we live by Vestigial transgressions LEAVE: Roman, he was ancient then; Sable is medieval; and I will be as modern as a reductive, sprouting plant forever. POSTHUMUS: Its true, and irrefragable. SABLE: Our grandparents were famous, and we came by them naturally. SURGEON: I am aware of what your grandparents involved: by the waterfall, the moisture and legality abundant II dont recall Surgeon Lifts the Wand LEAVE: Well follow you to the waterfall. Surgeon Drops the Wand The Surgeon Swirls the Hat SURGEON: Youll follow me to the waterfall. (Pause) Still Swirls SABLE: Is this an evening? The Orange Continues as They Consider It with Eyes LEAVE: In many ways it is an evening.

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SURGEON: In the dramatic fragments are the crimes: we screw our theory into drama. We catch who kills. The play of how we think you murdered will play tomorrow at this time. Its been arranged. The evenings yours to derange, to disarrange. (Pause) Still Swirls Well make a play of what we think; and from the situation, a decision will drink, an animal infinitesimal. Its all been scheduled. Follow me to where the rocks been water-tooled in a day. The Surgeon Ceases the Hats Swirl: Surcease, Success Surgeon Leaves SABLE: That was strange Listen. (Pause) I am like a certain mummy wrapped up in elms and circumstance Well have to suffer through the distance of his geometric dream? The camellia blots the blue sky with its pink; the sun blots pink; could this be truth with movement and some flesh? This scrutable, legal censors play If I atone beside a waterfall, will I be back in climate with my happiness, desires and necessitys coincidence in oaks, not made uneven by knowledge? Or does that require death? (Pause) 34

Sable Points South With our sly chemical motivations, can we apprehend the chemical dimensions and dementations of the setting sun? What is it that the light requires of this month? The light devours. South. Lets leave now. POSTHUMUS: The stream continues like a drum. LEAVE: Where you, go Ill come. SABLE: Aubergine jewel of the evening if Thank you very much

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Act Two, Scene Two A Waterfall The Rock Responsive to Compliant Water: An Image of the State A Gavel and Mask and Ink Judicial Rags and Priestly Towels A Clowns Apparel and a Witchs: a Type of Motley Sable The Apparel Will Remain Unused A Stage Wrapped in Events of the First Stage The Surgeon Cable-Player, Posthumus-Player Roman-Player, Sable-Player, Leave-Player A Pond Beside SURGEON: Does everybody know their part? when to enter and depart? how to simulate copulation with the spasming of generation? Well play this dramatic engine, 36

and then afterwards the weapons. ALL PLAYERS: Ok. SURGEON: The rabbit on the roof my window sees Well try them for the florid disease, the vestiges of garden Ive lost my play and place again. LEAVE-PLAYER: So should I play her as a variety of fornicatress, or a sorrowful compliant? CABLE-PLAYER: As the father of this all, I need more lines, any. SURGEON: It is not your characters crime, to the latter we are not dramatically condemning Leave, so, sad and responsively, Id say, to the former Is any other else concerned with the vent of affect of their matter? To the cuticle of it, youre a reformer even better, though, to judicially deceive: the ultimate corner is almost turned. POSTHUMUS-PLAYER: What is Posthumus exactly? SURGEON: She malingers, an affected disaffected the exact angle of her liver, brain, or fingers doesnt matter Read the lines that Ive selected from the possible. POSTHUMUS-PLAYER: There are no lines for me, exactly. LEAVE-PLAYER: Who wrote the script? SURGEON: I did. SABLE-PLAYER: Ill write on future resumes I am a lower form of life. Sing me the angles of Sable. SURGEON: He is arrogant though erudite, verbose though contrite, a type of talking of the light 37

that never lights with its dark geometry Sable is mostly urgently inconsistent with his crime Sables incongruent with his time I think I hear them come. Enter Sable, Leave, and Posthumus ROMAN-PLAYER: Whats Roman? SURGEON Romans speakings not important, he only dies. Sable, Leave, and Posthumus Approaching LEAVE: The belly of his wrist breaks, blistering with pregnancy SURGEON: (To the Players) Prepare the stage for the crime again Ill wear my rags; have close to fingerprints the killing engine. Surgeon Puts on the Rags and Towels The Players Put Their Bodies like Some Rags on Stage Sable, Leave, and Posthumus Arrive LEAVE: There is rust inside your ankle I can hear SABLE: The public secrecies of justice and of drama intersect SURGEON: Confessions do not make you guilty, only our procedures; youre suspected anyway; youll get your indenture. SABLE: Under your medicinal correction, we have come, but the compliant permission of a moment thinking of the water of the waterfall, we need that The pond with green circumference below, the white ruffles leading up in their descending, the liquid glass between the white, the sedentary interruptions, white and black, of rocks the fluid, gathered fabric, liquid exclamations SURGEON: Sit down. 38

SABLE: What? SURGEON: The play occurs. Before the stage. Front. This census consists of a dramatic brunt. All Sit SABLE: As public words work in private mints to make our private coin, the play will make our several and coincident thinkings Do they enfranchise dies for us? Inward, though retaining of a skin, this play is public privacy. The Stupid Show: The Players Rise like Rags Cable-Player and Posthumus-Player Forward They Spasm, Pudenda Extended, Simulating Copulation Posthumus-Player Extends the Belly of Her Clothes Thrice Flattens the Clothing Thrice A Triple Engine of Appearance The Appearance Thrice: of Roman, Sable, Leave SURGEON: (Whispering) This signifies the constrictions of generation, the vast result of a small local motion. Cable-Player Dies by Dropping Down Cable-Player and Posthumus-Player Backward like Crabs Roman-Player and Leave-Player Forward ROMAN-PLAYER: I am Roman, and now subside on an agrarian engine. Leave, be my shrinkings woman, 39

so that dying generations may begin, with love. LEAVE-PLAYER: Lets begin our ending copulation among the crops correlative to sin. They Modulate Between Copulation and Farming Roman-Player Backward like a Possum Sable-Player Forward SABLE-PLAYER: This is a compliant seduction, though it is desires webbed suction We are spiders in the pullings of our vacuums. LEAVE-PLAYER: What type of life can we presume beside our brother that wont involve in consummation, tombs. SABLE-PLAYER: After death we can resume in another grove where private things of the universe are public, a type of naked heaven or republic This requires Romans death; well make him sick. Leave-Player: a Crustacean, She Moves Back Roman-Player Forward Sable-Player Offers Roman-Player a Drink by a Blue Stream Roman-Player Smells the Drink and is Repulsed Gesticulations, Angry Sable-Player Resorts to a Black Rock by a Blue Stream In the Process of the Rock, Sables Ankle Breaks Roman Player Dies by Dropping Down Posthumus-Player Eliminates the Body off the Stage, Complicit 40

The Stupid Show is Ended The Players Disappear into the Woods Like Rags into the Woods LEAVE: You are incredible with broken bones of tragical relevance. SURGEON: Leave was not an instrument, and therefore isnt charged. POSTHUMUS: O dont put it there, its full of filth and hair SABLE: The biblical math of choreography Whats represented in this dance is very close to the veridical tune of the thing, Ill admit it is a worthy orchestration in the moisture, a recognizance close to the guilt, although the talkings wrong LEAVE: Toxic with spiders and desire SURGEON: We maim you now; the executions later. SABLE: But weve eliminated ourselves neuter! Ungenitured Is this the time for our seasonal voyage? Players Enter with a Spike of Double Engine Players Gouge out those Ear Drums of Posthumus Players Gouge out Those Eyes like Drums from Sable Screaming Often Lights Stop

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Act Two, Scene Three The Mothers Cave Outside the Cave, Beside the Sea A Cup in Grass, A Bowl of Percoset A Mound of Parts of Humans Purely Bones Continue Bones with Plants upon Them, Continual They Enter in Wandering 42

Leave Enters First Sable and Posthumus Enter Stumbling Gore Dried on their Eyes and Ears, as its Appropriate to Each Deaf, Blind, Idiotic Stumbling, Continual LEAVE: I need to fill your body with my body, lovely sockets Leave Goes Into the Cave SABLE: The world without some eyes is vaporous the still grinding of the gash, immobile, mobile pain, inflects chimerical pulsations implying vision without eyes chromatic razure, blue and green in disappearance the world does not blank off in just one second, there is an after of awkward stepping dying young and in the vertex of the doing; it is a better way to die, but the worst way to live. Outward decorating motions are now nothing; I am all inside, and inwardly dig my breaks and doings. The blind tax of this injury is long in the inscrutable repaying The confederated music of our injuries Sable and Posthumus Stumble to a Seat Beside the Bones POSTHUMUS: Your lips are dancing with a music only implication. For undertaking, necromancing, Im taken from their tune inside my sin. Leave Comes Out with Wet Washcloths SABLE: That lapping which may attach to the shore, or to the solitary sign, 43

implies, with its shallow crackings, the depth of the veridical channel Leave Cleans the Gore of Sable Leave Wets the Gore to Cleanness LEAVE: In boats of cloth, we comminute SABLE: The talea of sequent breath, definitive in laceration My nose moves on the joint of its investigation like a bager the exasperating crush of air The Cloth Surfeit with Gore LEAVE: It does feel like a witchs finger, the wind Leave Goes Back Inside the Cave SABLE: So strung are the eyes which light my head that they pop with the mild prompting of a knife more quick but less disastrous than worms, and do not play the tune of the scene. Leave Comes Out with a New Cloth Leave Cleans the Gore of Posthumus POSTHUMUS: I cannot juggle with out ears, I cannot bury without sound; That compliant music I cant hear of a body and the ground We are noble in our stumbling treble, until we crumble to the sandy level Leave Scrubs with Moisture All that Gore LEAVE: Oranges in a white paper bag, I think of them. SABLE: The incisive imperfections of your teeth 44

covered by the apparent white of distance that I imagine. Your womans palm motley with strawberries, and their vestiges in stains and tastes, and the indiscriminate pink on distant teeth that I imagine with out eyes. The Wet Cloth Catatonic with the Blood Incapable of Speaking Clean More Wounds Leave Drops the Cloth Leave Fetches Percoset from Grass Bowl LEAVE: I cant have apples in the morning, thats like having whiskey at night. Leave Feeds the Percoset to Posthumus POSTHUMUS: Our stumbling is modulation of our skin and sin a sort of walking mumbling. Leave Feeds the Percoset to Sable Leave Takes the Cup from Grass into the Cave SABLE: I can hear the trees like stones in streams, and can, in my imaginations vestiges, see green modulation moving as if flame. (Pause) Leave Returns, Cup Filled with Water LEAVE: A comedy of criminals amends in grass. Sable Drinks SABLE: The myth transposed into equations of crisp border

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LEAVE: A caskets the best picture frame. POSTHUMUS: My equilibrium disappeared when they peeled the scum of my ears pond, that drum, from off of it, like algae or like cloth My mind flutters like a moth in injury, in slits Posthumus, She Drinks SABLE: Each proclamation private as a thought in its significancemedicinal wheelbarrow LEAVE: Sable, tragic Sable. POSTHUMUS: O son, sweet son! Son, son, my sweet! LEAVE: A tale within a circle of an animal, thats us Leave Feels Sables Hair SABLE: Our tripled gypsy engine sitting here, I doubt that we could power even bandages. LEAVE: My first love is my first have, is my first half SABLE: The desire to be right can motivate an education, and that arrogant alchemy produces trueish gold but can atonement then procured apply with veridical texture? Or is the metal truant? Leave Stops with Hair LEAVE: We are strange to each other, animal in our distance. SABLE: The surgeon will have scheduled someone 46

for the killing. We have a little time preparing for the abrupt wetness of cutting off, and then we stop, to venture into death, that afterward Guiana. LEAVE: A story is getting what you want. SABLE: The smoothing disjunct of a rapid, mutual change in pitch, but with the gloss of style, and with the rough of passion, that is the music we are in The schedule is enamel for it all. Posthumus Pulls out Her Juggling Balls LEAVE: A story is getting what you regret. SABLE: The nip and epilogue to things, will it be quick? or will the stumbling be long with many colors? Posthumus Tries to Juggle They, the Balls, Scatter LEAVE: Your mantle and your dress a sort of human inward cream SABLE: The complemental geometrics of our crime, in its commission three-hundred sixty times, and absolute coincidence with guilt, will wheel us to our ultimate event. They, the Balls, Gather in Hands of Posthumus Posthumus Regains Her Seat by Human Parts LEAVE: If there are little chickens in the snow, the puppies are in dust, then children are. SABLE: With this wet, digging punishment, there is a recrudescence of my innocence beginning but can it end only in death? I think. (Pause) Sable Uses a Fibula from the Pile For His Seeing Stick 47

He Taps His Way with that Exposed Bone Ours is a happiness buried muted in the violating that atoning is. For as the cut bald field is finally in the sun, this violence lights us. See, Wilma? (Pause) Sable Leans Against the Fibula In the violation, we defeat complacency with not a happiness, but satisfaction under sight, a modest avoidance of compliance. This will eliminate our sexes in our afters. We will be neuter in the metaphysical twilight. (Pause) Sable Lowers Himself Down to Sit The Fibula a Sort of Crank Eves visceral coil by her coiled child, God prescribed for her the pain and the inflation, the necessary childbirth and needful hurting. The perforated edges of the words approximations in her grunts these are her ascents to a muted satisfaction, after a decimated physical results in genesis; and since I cannot birth, I birth me into death with punishments midwife. LEAVE: Ill try my hardest in a gentle, filthy way. SABLE: The beauties which can happen in the process of a larger thing Mortifying glass in chambers sequins Temporal correction in the vitreous LEAVE: The paws of penguins do the work as slow and as disastrous as ours. Posthumus Picks up a Skull from the Pile Holds It to Her Eviscerated Ear

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POSTHUMUS: This skull sounds not at all as does the ocean all is alarm for me the ground, when will you mention when well meet beneath the grass and harm? Posthumus Holding Sable Posthumus Petting Sable POSTHUMUS: The patterns of your heart expressed in air do not meet my ear, thats fallen apart Into the scum of kissing, I dont dare. Posthumus Giving Sable Water in the Mouth I could juggle for you in idiot entertainment, which is only as true as its motley derangement Son, I love you. SABLE: Leave loves you, too Silence Posthumus Uncertain in Her Silent Location Sable Gestures Toward Leaves Voice Touches Her, and Toward his Heart He Wears a Question in his Features Quizzical Affect Posthumus Understands

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POSTHUMUS: I love both Leave and you. Sable Getting up SABLE: Could this end in rape? LEAVE: Not yet. Sable Walking with the Fibula for Eyes SABLE: My thoughts about this all, I can record them in my mutual, living metaphors, those things that often gesture in their patterns. LEAVE: Our buttons for our familiar, and an indentation SABLE: We descendants of Jubal, with our desperate melismas, we play the decaying generations. LEAVE: The oaks chamber of arranging filled with liquid coals Leave Goes into the Cave SABLE: The crime can be that pivot on which your dressing and significance, the mantle and the definition of your wet skin, depend for landing here or there, as scale or as attire the cloth, it tremorsI I mix Leave Comes Out with a Witchcraft Wig for Posthumus She Applies It to Posthumus It is the crimes geometry that arranges all the motley weighings of your life in its deciding vortex LEAVE: Visit me. I am always in my house. I read books that we can talk about. Leave Goes into the Cave SABLE: The bees catch in honey clots, 50

the hives a busted pattern larvae drown in their own sustenance the viscous, syrup viscera, the tint of black-veined wings caught in the stickiness, and broken off, darkening the honey (Pause) Leave comes out with a Judicial Wig for Sable Leave Applies It to Sable Get me light. LEAVE: Not again. SABLE: The crime is that small hand that collects the cloth for sewing into garments our wild fabrics can form nothing outside of its digital direction, the prints that soil with a math, their judicial intimacy. Another Egyptian imagination experiment: Physcon without vices of end implication is not Physcon that fat, rancid belly not framed by wool or taffeta of violence Imagine Physcon like a Gordian butterfly, the tumbling comportment of obesity with acrobatic violence, tied in one geometry of organs and of blood Physcon without crime is Physcon split at the little joint inside his every organ, and that knot of the first covenant undone. The contract spelled in capillaries with her God, Eve violates it if she splits herself from her engendering joints inside, and is a knot asunder. LEAVE: Visit me. Leave Goes into the Cave POSTHUMUS: I am outside of this waltz My brain with no linguistic stilts above the hearing

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SABLE: If our dreams are of desires, then our desires are of strange direction, slant predilectionO, I O the veridical slant angles after death (Pause) Sable Strokes the Fibula for its Imagined Sight I am at my grandmothers house, something dark happens on the stoop. I need to take up soccer so we go to a Northern climate. My family and I go on a melancholy and impromptu cruise. There is a shed in the dark, there is a confrontation. Leave Comes out with a Comb Leave brushes the Synthetic Hair of Sable I dreamed last night. LEAVE: Visit, please. SABLE: Can we get sleep again? LEAVE: We can. POSTHUMUS: We sleep? They Nod Lights Out

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Act Two, Scene Four The Waterfall The Rock and Water The Gavel and Mask and Ink Beside Judicial Rags and Priestly Towels Remain A Clowns Apparel and a Witchs The Stage within the Stage The Surgeon and the Hangman The Pond Inside, its Clean Gore, in the Corners, of the Punishment HANGMAN: I could pretend my competence to do it, but that only works with humans. SURGEON: These are humans, but they need to die. What is the method your action will try?

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HANGMAN: Chopping off their heads. SURGEON: Alright. HANGMAN: Witchcraft and justice work with secret strings. SURGEON: Im not sure what youre getting at; your minds a catching slot. HANGMAN: Explain the nature of the crime to me. SURGEON: Sable killed his older brother. With the burial, he had the help of his mother. His sister is compliant in this, and his lover. Kill her now, too; I was going to spare her. HANGMAN: Whats their condition? SURGEON: Maimed. HANGMAN: Where can they be found? SURGEON: Ive buried that in this cartography; it will expose the bones of the geography. The Surgeon Hands a Map to the Hangman (Pause) The Surgeon Considers the Gore with his Eyes What will you use? HANGMAN: My axe. There is balance, there is axle, in its splitting. Goodbye. The Hangman Exits with His Axe SURGEON: In their execution is disjointing of their crime; it is a peeling off of medicinal scum. They will be raw.

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Act Three, Scene One The Mothers Cave The Cave, the Sea The Cup, the Bowl The Bones, the Grass Sable Awake With Empty Eyes Leave Asleep and Immaculately Jointed Posthumus Asleep with Disjointed Ears SABLE: The suns illumination humors in their shifting on or off, in evening or in morning that Promethean dilution, the pure liquid motive of a flame, 55

which powers modulations into sleep and out, splits between the morning, the evening, and I cannot differentiate the similars asunder. (Pause) Leave Wakes Up Sables Face to the Light like a Deer Either Curious or Thirsty The change in heat and light induces wetness in the wind; the grass is cool, and coils and folds beneath my shaking knees, the cap and joint and tremor on the green. Windy trees like rain, or busy marbles like an absurdly green stream each leaf a mobile and immobile plate of green current. The plants are a natural laundry that cleans our feculent flesh after our burial. (Pause) Sables Fingers in the Dirt Leave Plays with Posthumus Juggling Balls Leave Puts Them Down The bones. Id bet the wind is in the bones. Nutritious heat can dry the sockets into cracked and rancid pockets. The light is not laundry. Leave Plays with Sables Seeing Fibula Leave Puts it Down LEAVE: I dont believe the earth is very lucky. What is going on?

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SABLE: What? (Pause) Leave Goes to Brush the Hair of Sable Sable Relaxes LEAVE: Sable, with you blind, and with Posthumus, her deaf, I will steal your speaking leaf and inhabit your kind (Pause) Leave Brushes the Judicial Hair I will chameleonically extend you both in your diminished functioning, and be of your two souls a mutual broth Is the geometry in this paralytic? I am the soil for the transmigration of your bones. (Pause) The Hair I like better the things that happen when youre naked and in scum. SABLE: What? LEAVE: My speech will ramify your bones when they are gone in the transubstantiation of a chameleon. SABLE: In our continuance, our burial seems to be; you end us. LEAVE: Like flies contrite on a photoned corpse, Ill use the suns stinking light to light my course

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I will be blue In the sun for you. SABLE: As many atoms as the sun jostles in heat are my concerns LEAVE: Your face is soft like hay and fire. Hair Posthumus Wakes Up SABLE: The immaculate backward that this guilt enforces, with no life forward with this the present is just a turned accessory to the past, of grinding vantage of masochistic decoration. POSTHUMUS: What are these silent jostlings of lips words are not the clients of that flesh but only airy slips SABLE: These wigs and this transmemberment black crystals veined with thunders, seamed with lightningconscience like a subtle cloth. LEAVE: The cannonades, I hear them The Hangman Enters with his Axe HANGMAN: Im your executioner. SABLE: What? Where are your Sables Head Modulates its Angle in Curiosity His Gouged Affect LEAVE: I pray in the evening, because I die at night. HANGMAN: Im here for executing you. SABLE: What do you do? 58

Leave Takes off their Wigs Leave Throws the Wigs on the Bones HANGMAN: The guilt is buried for the most part in the inarticulate. I articulate it with your disarticulations understand? SABLE: My eyes are out. LEAVE: By my lonesome canary self POSTHUMUS: Sable, what is going on? Leave Goes into the Cave with the Cup HANGMAN: The hangmans method is a form of mystery: I show you truths with limbs like animals, by walking you to death. Leave Comes Out of the Cave SABLE: The sighting after deaths a secret mammal, you are right Leave Dribbles Sable Water Sable Drinks HANGMAN: Your spirit has its designation and its name of killing Roman: Namor. Youre without love. SABLE: Is that true? HANGMAN: It very well could be. LEAVE: Youre not making any sense. Leave Dribbles Water to Posthumus Posthumus Drinks

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HANGMAN: There is a pattern in the bones of this, although the flesh can be chaotic. You need to have a sense of humor to say things that make no sense. I no longer have a sense of humor. Ive been sober far too long. There is geometry of marrow. LEAVE: You are improbable. HANGMAN: The relationship of inanimate things to each other is irrational. Its my job to make you irrational. SABLE: The possibility of reprieves enameled in the morning Lets wait until the morning, when that possible extinguishes. Leave Hands a Percoset to Posthumus Posthumus Swallows HANGMAN: One of the great minds of the western record is Abels, since he died the first. SABLE: Im not as wise as him. Leave Hands a Percoset to Sable Sable Swallows. HANGMAN: Ill modulate into some violence against your throat. Cooperate. Hangman Picks up his Axe SABLE: Why use an axe if youre a hangman? HANGMAN: The hanging is a specialty, but is not limiting SABLE: We are lame, we cant escape give us until the morning, and we wont leave before that wet inevitable, I swear. (Pause) The Hangman Considers Nodding

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HANGMAN: You are not wrong; you are defunct, therefore incapable of flight. A slight stay until a more thoughtful dawn, your brain more fresh for its separation, is not out of the question. Ok, Ill agree to that. Hangman into the Cave Leave and Posthumus Exit into the Cave Cautious Behind Him SABLE: The hidden strings that fashion the concealing in a public place are never naked to our thoughts, but only disappear: strung witchcraft, justice, drama, navigation, all and the strung stumblings of infatuation. In our reprieve, is our negation. I should have let him kill us. Lights Stop

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Act Three, Scene Two The Waterfall The Rock, the Water The Gavel, the Mask, the Ink Judicial Rags, the Priestly Towels The Witch and Clown Apparel The Stage, the Inner Stage The Surgeon, all the Players The Pond, the Clean The Gore, the Corners SURGEON: The thing must be contained with hysterical repetition. We need to iterate the secondary, tertiary plan. Me going now That is the second solution. If I dont come back, spread like a killing fan, or like disease, into the woods. Thats three. Have I been understood? CABLE-PLAYER: What should we kill them with? SURGEON: Everything available. POSTHUMUS-PLAYER: And how long should we wait? SURGEON: One day. (Pause) Surgeon Considering the Gore What is a lizards dream? Love is an offence of discovery The wilds of wild Arabia Turns the yellow butterfly 62

to ash The stumbling computations of our thighs Surgeon Wakes into Consideration of the Scene If they arent by the ocean, check the stream; that is the plans triple melody, the sacerdotal triad; rebreak the tibia if you can, give that calcium rash Make sure they judiciously die: pain, tranquility, pain. Then long tranquility. Reiteration anyone? That is the triple finish in which these raw criminals will diminish. SABLE-PLAYER: Well break the foot again for you. SURGEON: No, for the State. CABLE-PLAYER: Should we bury their bodies after their transubstantiating punishment? SURGEON: No, leave them for the elements to clean their rancid flesh in washing maggots, grubs, and grass, where their molecules transmigrate. Let them convert to rainbows, through all the motley birds that live on them. LEAVE-PLAYER: Is this Christian? SURGEON: Probably. LEAVE-PLAYER: What do you base that on? SURGEON: I think that God loves rainbows. Surgeon Exits with the Weapon of Double Engine

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Act Three, Scene Three The Mothers Cave The Cave, the Sea The Cup, the Bowl The Bones, the Grass Posthumus and the Hangman in the Cave, Out of Sight Sable and Leave by the Bones Drinking Water and Eating Honey In the Morning Bathing in Water , by Pouring it on Them A Sponge Among the Bones SABLE: The atomized conduits of thinking, bees modulating in my brain the rancid pigeons stumbling flying with the livery of a diseases implying through the people, that comes. LEAVE: If after death is an Atlantis, I will be spoiled by the watery concerns. Continually Bathing SABLE: While a word from God swept over the wet face To be dead is to be always in the wind. LEAVE: The calenture afflicts me.

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Continually SABLE: I have no thought but in a sinew, and the solid superficies. Lets act. This is a process of living strings and predicates not purely among our bones in cold comparison something will be done to us. We are no verbless trebles. We will sing, and in that will pervert the scene from melody In ribs and dew, the rhythm mathematically rings, disarrayed geometry LEAVE: We wake from the dream, into the story The Bathing Stops SABLE: In the promiscuous webbings of green nature, our home either ossuary or reliquary, our lives are echos, and secondary, tertiary LEAVE: The skys a motley dome today. SABLE: Those colors parody the rainbow, and the promise in refraction. I cannot eve see the parody. Leave Puts Some Honey in Sables Hair LEAVE: You leak with the chromatic. SABLE: Youre not refracting me today? Or Posthumus either? LEAVE: You didnt react well, and you are not over. SABLE: These allegros and adagios, they modulate Hangman Exiting the Cave with Posthumus Her Stumbling like Prey or as in Prayer before Him HANGMAN: Of course there are objections, but objections are only spoken a wave can never object in its liquid crumble. SABLE: Is it morning already? 65

LEAVE: Old women eat only ginger. Spare her. Leave Touches the Sticky Hair HANGMAN: (To Posthumus) Pyramids break at the very tip, and so will you break at the tip, and let your spirit leak. LEAVE: O this orange lunch SABLE: What? HANGMAN: Its time. Perhaps you cannot be right in any particle of a situation, but you must be at least approximate, or you have lived badly. How have you lived? SABLE: I cannot slightly understand HANGMAN: Not you. Posthumus speaks our language in particles, but cannot speak it in the right direction, out of physical obstruction. SABLE: The absence of reprieve is not a definite. HANGMAN: If you are a badger that will nostril around in spiritual atoms, consider that I cut off your spasming nose. Leave Tastes the Sweet from off the Hair LEAVE: Usquebaugh liquid as a claw Leave into the Cave HANGMAN: This filthy food you are, Ill wash it in the pure laundry of my circulation. Your head is coming off Leave Comes out with a Thing behind her Back LEAVE: O orange imposthume HANGMAN: Im lancing the infection your brains are just the puss, those defeated atoms of immunity Goodbye. The Hangman Disarticulates the Brain and Mouth of Posthumus

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With his Axe of Balance SABLE: Mom! HANGMAN: This is a legal matter. SABLE: Posthumus! HANGMAN: You can never be right. SABLE: What? Whats happening? HANGMAN: Youre next. With Posthumus Saw for Undertaking of the Joints and Flesh And One Jagging Slash from Behind Leave Cuts the Hangmans Head Three-Fourths to off The Hangman Dies Gore Accordingly LEAVE: It will stick with me like a beautiful pearl rotted into my skin, or like a knife. Lights Stop

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Act Three, Scene Four A Sylvan Orange Appears Sable, Leave Appear They Are In the Colored Woods Two Seats, a Wand, a Skull, a Seven Dollar Bill A Top Hat on a Table Two Somewhat Humans, Outwardly Hermaphroditical Leave and Sable Stumbling, Asthmatic toward the Seats LEAVE: I thought it was a piece of water, but it was just a piece of blood. SABLE: The comminuted chromatics of marl intimations Bdellium and onyx stoneit makes them come The teal surveillance of in the I cant Both Sit LEAVE: A portion of our blood is gone. 68

SABLE: The chinking in the measure of the blood on the moss the the instrument the research in the blood, which animates the mud the animating research LEAVE: Research my face with your fist. A Sylvan Cerulean Appears SABLE: The living dye, with blindness blacked, spread on the moss and bones, fluidly racked Though we did not bury her geometric in the ground, that biological inks discretions spread around She spread shrunken to the liquid quintessence of those spiritual, fluid atoms circumference. The spread, the spread LEAVE: Like Abraham, like Brahms Leave Hands Sable the Wand Sable Rubs the Wand Against his Face SABLE: Where is the process in these transubstantiating trees? I neither taste, nor sense, nor any portion see the motley modulations of our home, which signify disease in their abundance a particular-colored tumor grown green. LEAVE: Fox lungs and foxgloves, they are preparative Leave Puts the Hat on Sable Sable Blackly Rubs the Rim SABLE: No; the slight dew, the slender rain, as leaves wander over my lips chapping, the trees like jostling fluid the granular fluid over the chair, the pollen in the dew these will not sprout into chromatics when I feed it with my dying, a reparative.

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(Pause) Sable Holds the Hat Inside One Hand Sable Weighs the Wand Against the Hat I cannot see with these scabbed sockets the orange of the wooden process, the animating effort which accounts woods living, and a pattern of geometrical biology toward death the inward research oxidation of Prometheus, which burns to light, and multiplies to surfeit I Ive gotten lost LEAVE: If you want to drink wine while lost, you should have figs in your nostrils. A Sylvan Saffron Appears SABLE: The fluid of my vision, it disperses secret pulsations blue, purple, black, and yellow what the double knife eroded from my eye the woods deposit in green memory and the green sound These colors are injurys vision. (Pause) Sable Feels the Edges of His Hat With His Wands Tip The appearance and deletion of the water work with the secret cordage of the evening: the night compresses into fluid dew, then night evaporates with just the sediments clue. Sable Places Down the Hat and Wand LEAVE: You whoreson jackanapes SABLE: To post with such dexterity LEAVE: O you Bermuda pig 70

Leave Hands Sable the Seven Dollar Bill A Seven Dollar Bill Is One Half Two Dollars, One Half Five Sable Rubs the Seven Dollar Bill SABLE: Somatic forfeits paid; Posthumus dead; the blood has just not migrated; the surgeon comes to transmigrate us into payment; Eve, Eve, Eve, Eve, Eve, Eve, Eve for you, Sable forecloses, and you bankrupt Leave, because were similars. Then we are total transaction into the after. Sable Picks up the Hat Again Sable Holds its Black LEAVE: In our bloods measure is our eventual foreclosure; in that crimson process is the afters circulating form of bliss Sable Scrubs the Hat with the Seven Dollar Bill SABLE: The fissions measure LEAVE: We did not disjunctively bankrupt, nor has any abrupt degradation, brought us to dirty shins or dirty caps above, my gouged love Our degradations consonant SABLE: And operates with my consent. Sable Trades the Seven Dollar Bill for the Wand LEAVE: What?

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Sable Tries the Wand Against the Hat To See if It Is Better Scrubbing SABLE: What? No, listen. (Pause) In the hangmans killing, you disjoint the after passage into the season of organic clarity our deaths will be improper now. The dead will with us interbreed, and make a morbid combination in our celestial vestibule. The spirit-pipe bursts; we pool between. (Pause) Leave Pulls from her Pockets Percoset Leave Feeds Some Percoset to Sable Or is it an antecedent that antecedes not a thing, and is just suggestion of a blank: I think we are pure suggestion. (Pause) A Sylvan Orange Again Both Shiver Visibly LEAVE: They say its three degrees outside, but its not; its at least twelve degrees. SABLE: The color comes, chameleonic. A lizard dreams of motley domes. When my skin puckers around the follicles, degraded pearls like raisins, the woods, they are orange. See, Wilma? (Pause) Sable Puts All Things Down Sable Touches His Empty Eyes

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You should not have killed the hangman; the publics thing will happen to us very privately. Leave Gets Up Leave Pulls From Her Pockets Posthumus Routine Balls Leave Begins to Juggle LEAVE: The respect and vantage of the thing is doubled like an antipode If the calenture is our adventure, then we will both drown in this green grass Juggle these musty twigs my crown, this stream my looking glass: Juggle O how it modulates sometimes and sometimes peels reflection off to pebbles and small water greens below which seem to be my face for seconds We will till it until, until, until Juggle Over SABLE: We deserve to be as natural as stave, without illuminating humor Leave Sits Down LEAVE: Will this end in a rape? SABLE: It will. LEAVE: Until it will. 73

Leave Stands Up SABLE: The present mothers chest is chapped like lips; for suckling, provides us puss, and other putrid moisture. LEAVE: Until. Leave Sits Down SABLE: Please put my hat on me. LEAVE: Ok. Leave Gets Up Leave Puts the Hat on Sable Leave Touches Sables Shoulder SABLE: I am now marked with the disease, that I can sense it in the temperature of trees. We abandon muddy substance with celerity for the geometry of death, I think If back, and back, and back, and back, to some suburb in Sumeria, I could arrive, then could I make it right with sequent actions: decency then consequent to decency, adequate in growing of the ancient corn, and slopping living clay in shapes for us to live within; wearing the wide weave of a wife, and weaving for the wife some other weaves. Is there a climate for that sequence? Or maybe in a future of celestial penultimance, our atoms will arrange with their first decency, and myths of weaving cloth will not be necessary for us to enter heaven. Leave Untouches Sables Shoulder Leave Sits Down LEAVE: If that bone had broken in your brain, this never would have happened. 74

SABLE: I think that we exist on antipodes and do not light in unison. (Pause) Sable Feels His Gory Pockets Leave Watches that Sensation I cannot even cry, the ducts are so degraded, but my cuts are bothered by involuntary saline. LEAVE: Sable, I love you. SABLE: The marl issue of the earth, it degrades until its deliquescence is its single quintessence Even the rocks degrade. Leave Gets Up Leave Begins to Juggle LEAVE: Sable, I love you. SABLE: Our promise is a detail of the weather LEAVE: Would you love me if I juggled color? Juggling SABLE: Our covenant is merely hail. LEAVE: Your brain has circulation of a pearl. SABLE: I love you, Leave. LEAVE: I am a pearl upon the beach. Leave Stops Juggling SABLE: Fetch me pebbles, and make them eyes.

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LEAVE: Ill try. SABLE: Fetch me a stick that I can see with. LEAVE: That, possibility will deny. SABLE: Fetch me a bone for beating. LEAVE: Thats as impossible as the sky. SABLE: Fetch me a stick to sleep by. I need protection. LEAVE: Ill try. Leave Touches Sables Shoulder SABLE: Hand me my skull. LEAVE: Ok. Leave Hands Sable the Skull Then the Scene Is Empty as the Sky

Act Four, Scene One 76

The Mothers Cave The Caves Beside the Sea The Cup Beside the Bowl and in the Drass The Bones Are in the Grass Posthumus, Her Cap Cut Off: Her Spilled in a Circumference Hangman Coming off, Apart and Spilled Some Birds at Open Throats Surgeon Enters SURGEON: Why am I so vehement that they be ultimately dealt with and revealed a violent satisfaction? I think it goes somewhere beyond my job. Surgeon Considers the Gore of Posthumus and Hangman The clowns and witchs apparel, they commingle to imply a mutual, reciprocal secret; they manifest themselves in their own hiding, they define themselves chameleons, since they are publicly disguises. I think of the laughter, and the nervous moment after. Surgeon Rattles His Fingers in the Percosets We diminute inside each others mutual vantage, Sable, Leave, and I; we are a trio orange in imposthume well eye each other into stubs. Surgeon Picks up the Head of Posthumus by the Hair My mind to me is a black fabric giving, giving, in the hand with every hensilation of prehensile hand, but never gives the hem and terminus where light begins, 77

and makes a lantern of me Its dark and shifts inside the rotting, wrapping cloth my thought can be, contemplative mummy. I conceive the laughter of a tree, like some water: there is a bitter kernel inward, a pliable obscure, a pine in inward tempest blacking; it creaks, but wont reveal the middle timber of it Creak, creak, break, creak, creak, creak, break. Surgeon Looks at the Consistent Gore Its Portions and Its Chunks The mothers dead; the hangmans dead; the son and daughter, husband, wife, theyll be, before this evenings dew, both dead. Tulips suggested by the matters of their heads will grow from them O, obscure reciprocities. Surgeon Exits toward Sable and Leave

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Act Four, Scene Two A Sylvan Orange Appears Sable, Leave Sitting They Are In the Colored Woods Two Seats, a Wand, a Skull, a Seven Dollar Bill A Top Hat on a Table Two Somewhat Humans, Outwardly Hermaphroditical LEAVE: It smells here like permission. SABLE: God is a hermaphrodite, and we must copy him, comply within that image LEAVE: I was borne of flowers. SABLE: Cain isnt killed. LEAVE: Well, you arent Cain. SABLE: The promises, the promises Leave, what do you promise me? LEAVE: I swell and diminute like Im a moon. Its a shame we never had children. Im elastic enough for it. Sable Holds the Skull inside his Hand, a Child Only Calcium SABLE: So you promise children? LEAVE: I diminish children. SABLE: Do you promise your crummy pudendum?

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LEAVE: I do SABLE: I do, too. Down Skull LEAVE: Do you promise love? SABLE: I promise not a thing. LEAVE: I cast my nets like gnats do, for flight those veins. SABLE: You are a type of lovely bee. LEAVE: Your eyes were only larvae, that we fed with honey. SABLE: What are they now? LEAVE: They grew into bees with gouging. SABLE: What does America mean if your eyes are gouged out? LEAVE: It means black. SABLE: The pollen pouch inside my thigh I think my thigh is purely powder The wife of the affair, the cheating standard, warrior coward We are the defunct tangent like these particles. LEAVE: Inhuman without precedence SABLE: What are the qualities of eyes? LEAVE: That they are blue, and full of jelly. SABLE: What are advantages of eyes? LEAVE: That they are blue. SABLE:O, they were paralytic in their blue LEAVE: The gouged paralysis.

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SABLE: Hermaphroditic tulips, I imagine them inside my teeth. LEAVE: Your deaths inevitable as moons, that modulation. SABLE: What are your visions of death? LEAVE: The bee makes flowers into hermaphrodites. SABLE: That we will be as natural as plants, impregnated by some insects black and yellow with seeds and with some colors? LEAVE: That is a type of death. SABLE: I think it is the type and character of our particles of horticulture, our lines LEAVE: What are your visions of death? SABLE: Those pure suggestive colors, they make Platonic architecture LEAVE: Another? SABLE: We live in architecture of a plant, just like you said LEAVE: Another? SABLE: We live in architecture of the black. LEAVE: As if in a wide metaphysical sack, with maggots? SABLE: Those maggots were my eyes, remember? LEAVE: I remember thats all we do, is remember. SABLE: Slovenly pudenda LEAVE: Another?

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SABLE: The things we think, theyll have a body with black sinews LEAVE: What are the qualities of bees? SABLE: Their bodies move in black joints. LEAVE: What are advantages of bees? SABLE: Those joints make secret honey that we eat in architecture when baby maggots are our tongues LEAVE: Another? SABLE: We see beyond the paste, and yet the yellows in our sight, that honey LEAVE: Whats the significance of flesh? SABLE: It is a sponge for all human wetness. Enter Surgeon SURGEON: Heres the sticky joint of your significance, with all the spilled pitchers drooling magnificence, all that clotting drink Surgeon Bluntly Removes the Brains of Leave SABLE: What are your visions of death? Surgeon Gruntingly Removes the Brains of Sable The Gore Below Both Die Exit Surgeon The Lights Go Off

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Act Four, Scene Three The Waterfall The Rock, the Water The Gavel, the Mask, the Ink Judicial Rags, the Priestly Towels The Witch and Clown Apparel The Stage, the Inner Stage The Pond, the Clean The Gore, the Corners The Players in Nervous Attendance Enter Surgeon Them at Attention Surgeon with Gore on His Forearm

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SURGEON: The mothers dead, the hangmans dead, and Sables dead, and Leave is dead; the heads, the head, the heads, the heads Fetch their several heads as evidence of their crime and the punishment since. Their skulls will become a type of device, a calcium precedence. CABLE-PLAYER: Where are they, the heads and the bodies by them? SURGEON: Two by the sea, and two inside the colored woods. CABLE-PLAYER: Should we strip them to their architecture there or do it here? SURGEON: There. CABLE-PLAYER: Your will, and your command. SURGEON: And one thing off this angle. Their skins made into red of birds. Dont plant with me in the ground a hive of bees, when you make me the succor of some tree with Christian burial let me lay in an exposure where the plants accompany me. CABLE-PLAYER: Your command.

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Act Four, Scene Four The Colored Woods Leave and Sable Turned into Soggy Earth With Boney Architecture From Their Soggy Soil, a Botanical Rainbow Their Viscera Make Tulips The Mark of Their Grandmother Evaporated from Their Bellies When Their Bellies Disappeared into the Earth Their Mangled Accessories on the Table Their Brothers Skull is Broken on the Table

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O These Generations This, At Least, God Promises The Colors

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