There are no longer “dancers,” the possessed.
The cleavage of men into actors and spectators
is a central fact of our time. We are obsessed
with heroes who we live for and whom we punish.
If all the radios and televisions were deprived
of their sources of power, all the books and paintings
burned tomorrow, all shows and cinemas closed,
all the arts of vicarious…

We are content with the “given” sensation’s
quest. We have been metamorphosised from mad
body dancing on hillsides to a pair of eyes
staring in the dark.